Lucille's Diner
by Lord Negan
Summary: Michelle Morris has fallen on some of the hardest times of her life. Her best friend is literally missing, she just lost her job, and now she's beginning a waitress job at Lucille's Diner, a diner that she and her long time boyfriend, Tenth, visit frequently. More people go missing, her managers, Ramsay and Negan, aren't as nice as they seem, and nothing feels right anymore.
1. Part 1

The news had struck her like an oncoming truck, a bolt of lightning; it left her breathless and uncertain as to how things could ever get worse than this. Things had already been running thin as it was, the increase in her rent throwing her into overtime. As if her full time hours hadn't been enough (which they financially _hadn't_ ) she'd been giving it more than her all just so she could pay her bills and live. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd had a break either. It was wake up, go to work all day, come home, eat, sleep, wake up, and go back to work. And the rare times she _wasn't_ at work, she was doing freelance work as an artist.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Michelle," her boss had told her solemnly, borderline bored even (he **wasn't** sorry), "but we have to let you go. There's been some budget cuts."

 _Budget cuts?_ The only budget Michelle was worried about now was her own. Because now she only had her freelance work on the side but it wouldn't be _nearly_ enough. She had never been late on rent but there was a first for everything.

" _Budget cuts?!_ "

Michelle couldn't help but sigh and nod sadly, the sound of her boyfriend's angered tone not at all making her feel vindicated. Should it have? She wasn't entirely sure.

" _Ohh_ trust me, Michelle, they won't know budget cuts until they've realized what mistake they made in letting you go," her boyfriend growled, shifting in his seat at their usual spot in the local diner. His fists were clenched tightly, frustration clear in his body and angular face. "You **_MADE_ ** that company! They're not gonna be nearly half of what they used to be with you gone and they're gonna come crawling right back, _you'll see._ "

Michelle wished that were true. His words just made her feel _worse_ , believe it or not. If she had been _such_ an asset to the advertising company, then how had they let her go so easily? How? Why send her to the proverbial chopping block when there were so many others working in the same field as her that were, _by far_ , worse than her? Less qualified? She didn't know.

She **did** know, however, that her boyfriend meant well. He really did. That was just in his nature, after all. Tenth was the type of guy that had an odd name but everything else about him was pretty much perfect. Well, in her eyes, anyway. His rich brown hair was always tousled, sideburns long, features and body slender, a lot of leg, and the _best_ smile this side of the universe. She could _almost_ forget her whole world was falling apart beneath her just by looking at him.

 _If only it were that easy._ Then again, **nothing** had been easy, not ever since her roommate and friend (read: best friend), Dawn, disappeared several months back. That was the reason why she could barely make ends meet anymore. Dawn had always helped with the rent, the bills, everything. But she was gone, not a word of her whereabouts. Another unsolved missing persons case. Michelle was really, _really_ tired but the lease on their apartment wasn't.

"Tenth, look," Michelle sighed, her fingers brushing against the steaming mug of coffee before her. The porcelain burned for just a nanosecond before she pulled her fingertips away again. She fixed her dark eyes on him, "I appreciate what you're saying, but I'm just- _not_ in the mood. Whether they come _'crawling back'_ or not doesn't matter right now."

She averted her eyes, just barely catching a glimpse of his pursed lips turning downward into a frown, that kind of look he got when he felt bad. Exactly the look he'd had when the flowers he'd ordered online came in the mail flattened because of careless postal workers or like the time when he accidentally got coconut icing on her birthday cake last year. Here he was trying to make her feel better and she just burst that bubble right away. But she couldn't feel bad about it.

"Hey," Tenth began again, voice much softer and quieter this time. Like a feather comforter, his words were wrapping around her, his hand reaching out to pull hers away from the cup of caffeine. "We're gonna get through this, alright? _C'mon_ , Michelle, look at me."

White teeth pulled at red lips as she finally allowed her gaze to focus more intently on him, his expression hinting at hopeful encouragement. Yet again, he was trying. The corners of his lips were smiling, expressive eyebrows relaxed, and caramel hues invitingly warm. His hair looked even better than usual today, which compounded the fact that he was certainly a sight for sore eyes. And certainly, her eyes were sore and weary.

Tenth leaned forward slightly, his smile growing just by increments, "World's not gonna end today. Not by a long shot."

There was something comforting about that, wasn't there? The world wasn't going to end today. Sure, maybe tomorrow, or the next day, or the day's day after _that_. But not today. No. Not now. Not in this little diner at the edge of Chicago on a surprisingly warm afternoon.

The world wasn't going to end, perhaps _ever_ , in this little diner that had been in their usual routine for nearing on a year now. It was cozy, small, generally bustling with a surprising amount of activity for how out of the way it was. Lucille's Diner, it was called. It always brought the question of _'who is and/or was Lucille?'_ , but there was never much of an answer to be found. Not that Michelle really cared too much; their incredible coffee was usually just good enough to not ask questions like that.

She smiled; a small twitch of her lips that grew as she squeezed his hand, her other fingers moving to brush back a dark strand of hair behind her ear, "Yeah. I know you're right, but-"

"Of _course_ I'm right," he scoffed, as if it were obvious, the little shit.

Michelle snorted, shaking her head, "But, that doesn't stop me from feeling like shit. Like what am I gonna do now? The world's not gonna end, sure, but the bills _aren't_ gonna stop." She paused, a mirthless and sarcastic huff escaping her lips, "Actually I'm more than a hundred percent sure the world could be ending and I'd still have to pay my rent. And I mean like the gates of hell opening on my front steps and my landlord would be shoving the eviction notice _under my door._ "

That seemed to get a genuine laugh out of Tenth, although Michelle wasn't entirely sure that's what she was going for. At least one of them found a little amusement in the situation (okay that wasn't fair, she knew it was just the imagery of an eviction notice during the apocalypse and not her actual predicament).

"Michelle, _please_ ," her boyfriend pleaded, sounding incredulous almost. "That's not gonna happen. It's gonna be fine. In fact, it's gonna be incredibly fine because I'll lend you some money at the end of this month."

She could feel her eyes widening in slight surprise, her head immediately beginning to shake, " _No!_ No, **absolutely** not, you are _not_ gonna do that."

"I'm not _not_ going to do it," he smirked, eyebrows quirking up slightly.

Oh, that little shit. Her lips twisted into something akin to a pout as she shook her head, firm and absolute, "You're _not_ giving me money, okay? I'm gonna sort this out on my own."

Silence followed before Tenth was sighing, "Oh _come on_ , I'm not just gonna sit back and watch this happen to you, not when I can do something to help."

"I don't want to be in debt to you," Michelle insisted, perhaps a little sharply, but it was more to the point. She had always been stubborn about doing things on her own, especially when it involved money. Maybe it was to prove a point to her family, maybe it was to just prove a point to herself that she could do it. Whatever it was, it was stubbornness no matter the angle.

Tenth looked and sounded all the more exasperated, "I want to do this _for_ you, no debts, no you owe me, _no nothing_ , just me wanting to help. Is that so bad?"

"Just wanted to check in: how is everything? Do either of you need anything?"

Both Michelle and Tenth found their attentions turning to their side, left and right respectively, to find a man about their age, dressed appropriately like a Lucille employee. Although with his black shirt and red tie, he seemed a bit more distinguished than the rest of the crew, and with that, unfamiliar to the couple. Which was an odd thing; you'd think with how much they came here, they would've recognized a man with such pale skin and such an angular jaw.

Michelle found her voice, "Oh, uh, no I think we're good."

"Another green tea for me, actually," Tenth amended, motioning slightly to his empty glass.

The man gave a pleasant smile, perhaps a little too pleasant, before he was nodding, "Of course, I'll get right on that."

And just as suddenly as he came, he was off again, leaving Michelle and Tenth to match gazes with a similar question lingering between them. But was it important enough of a question to bring up? Perhaps it was neither here nor there whether this guy was new or not. Maybe in all the time they'd been coming to Lucille's, he was always in the back.

Then again, there were more _important_ topics than a new employee face to a regular diner-goer. And silently, it seemed they both decided on that.

"My offer still stands, you know that," Tenth began again, brown eyes filled with honesty and sincerity. "You know Dawn wouldn't want to see you struggling like this."

Michelle's lips pursed hard, the mention of Dawn turning her insides into an acidic and sickening mush. What would Dawn say right now if she were here, beside Michelle in their usual Lucille seats?

 _'Don't worry, Michelle, that's why we both pay the rent, remember? I'll take care of everything until you can get back on your feet.'_

But then, wouldn't Michelle be refusing even _that_ just as she was refusing her own boyfriend? There was no doubt she would.

A pitcher filled with green tea was moving between them as the same man from before was refilling Tenth's glass with the liquid. It took Michelle only a moment to notice the nametag on his black button up shirt; _LUCILLE'S DINER_ and underneath the red logo: _RAMSAY_. And just beneath that read _'Assistant Manager'_.

"More green tea, there you are," he spoke, voice as overly pleasant as his smile. "Need anything else?"

His eyes were moving over to Michelle, his smile and blue eyes somehow conflicting with one another. Like there was something behind the eyes that the smile hid. And as his gaze continued to linger on Michelle, she felt something very, _very_ off. But again, it wasn't an important topic. Perhaps it was very, **_very_ ** unimportant. So she just smiled back, giving a shake of her head.

"No, we're good now I think," she affirmed. "Thank you."

Ramsay gave the smallest tilt of his body forward, his head following suit in a quick nod, "I'll be here if you need anything more, just let me know."

Yet again, his eyes watched her intently, from her hair to her eyes to her lips, and then he was walking off yet again, seemingly attending to another table several seats down. Michelle swallowed a bit roughly. Just what had _that_ been about? And was it so unimportant a topic that she felt something off about it? Or was today just wrong in every aspect?

It wasn't a subject that needed lingering on. She had much bigger problems to worry about. Like her boyfriend's incessant pleading to help her.

He was giving her that look, a look that told her he was determined and wasn't going to take no for an answer. Well hopefully he would take an _indirect_ no, at the very least.

Michelle sighed, reaching for her coffee to take a sip of his steaming substance. It burned her lips and tongue, keeping her grounded as she pulled it away. "Just let me think about it," she settled, watching him decisively. "I want to try to sort it out myself but I'll think about your offer too, yeah?"

Tenth looked deflated almost, but he quickly brushed it away, "Always gotta be _so_ stubborn about doing it your way."

She couldn't help but smile somewhat, knowing that she had won this battle. But did she win the war? That was yet to be seen (spoiler: she was going to win this war too, no matter _what_ it took). She breathed a small laugh through her nose as she adjusted herself in the seat.

"I can't help it," she admitted with a gentle shrug of her shoulders.

Tenth pointed her way, "At _least_ let me make you dinner and we watch some Netflix back at my place tonight. And I definitely won't take a no on that, Michelle Morris."

Michelle was biting at her lower lip yet again as her smile grew, perhaps the biggest smile she'd had in this entire horrible day, "Okay, _fine_. Deal."

Just out of the corner of her eye, there she caught a glimpse of that Ramsay character again, his eyes on her once more. It threatened to cause her smile to falter, but he quickly looked away, leaving her with a sense of uncertainty and, quite frankly, a chill. But once more, it was unimportant.


	2. Part 2

Dinner and Netflix at Tenth's place went about as well as it could have. And that was just very, _very_ normal. It wasn't the first time the couple had done something like this and it certainly wasn't going to be the _last_ either. Tenth fixed some great spaghetti and they finally got around to starting Stranger Things. But Michelle couldn't be all too invested when there were strange things happening in her _own_ life, to the point that it was getting unfair and ridiculous.

Tenth had urged her to spend the day relaxing and **_not_ ** freaking out about her dubious future without her main income. How could she _not_ freak out about it? Was it even within the realm of possibility to not freak out about it?

"It's not gonna get solved today," he reassured her, hearkening back to how the world wasn't going to end today. But it might as well have. Y2K had come, done its damage, and now Tenth was urging her to just be cool with it for a day or two.

Michelle's mind could barely even let it be a day. _Two days?_ That was where the line was drawn. She had to find _something_. Another job, something to keep her busy and to give her the false hope that she'd get enough money to pay rent and not starve. Which, she knew, she _just_ knew if she shared these lingering thoughts with her boyfriend, he'd just offer her his money again. So she just had to accept his urges to remain calm despite the hurricane levels of storm raging inside her mind.

The next day, she woke up early. At God awful and inhumanely early hours that _no_ human being or organism should have to be up at after any time of sleep. And she'd started up her laptop, went to Google, and started sifting through job site after job site. Application sent, application sent; several hours of this and the addition of some coffee. Before she realized it, her eyes were burning. Whether it was with unshed tears or just the screen burning into her retinas, she wasn't entirely sure.

It was silly of her, she knew it, but after sending a good ten applications out, she sat there, refreshing her email inbox. She kept her phone nearby, ringtone volume high enough to wake the neighbors. But, _of course_ , nothing came. Well, nothing but the automated receipts of _'your application has been received and will be reviewed'_. Which was a very condescending _'wait for disappointment and despair, it's coming'_.

Fingers came dragging down her makeupless face, pushing up to move back her long locks of hair. Sighing, she reached over to her nightstand, the heat of her laptop on her lap shifting to burn another portion of her legs as she grabbed a hair tie. With practice and precision, she tied her hair into a ponytail, making her feel as though she could breath just somewhat better. _Just_ somewhat.

Her heart jumped up into her throat in the next moment, the basic Apple ringtone of an obnoxious xylophone greeting her ears. Michelle's eyes widened; could it be that her metaphorical prayers had been answered and she was _already_ getting a call from a future employer? She grabbed her phone, looking at the screen to see- _Tenth_. A picture of her and Tenth, in more particular. She tapped the green phone button, pulling the device to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked, her voice a little more sluggish and frustrated than she'd meant.

He sounded surprised, " _Oh!_ You're up, good. Been up long?"

Her eyes wandered to the clock on her laptop, doing the small amount of math. Michelle's face scrunched slightly as she realized it was later than she thought. It was nearing on eleven in the morning.

" _Sorta_ ," she muttered, trying to brush it off. She didn't quite realize how dejected she sounded, though. "Why?"

"Breakfast," Tenth seemed to be edging a smile into his tone. "On me, at Lucille's. Sound good?"

Michelle felt her brows furrowing, "But isn't it lunchtime?"

"Alright, _alright_ , miss smarty, **_lunch_ ** at Lucille's."

The thought of food _did_ bring a sort of want to it, Michelle's stomach feeling empty beyond the couple cups of coffee she already had. If she had to convince herself, she did at least give an effort today. There wasn't a whole lot she could do beyond what had already been done. Not that she was a fan of that thought process, mind you.

A deep breath in, deep breath out, she was responding, "Yeah, alright. Okay. Lunch at Lucille's. I'll meet you there?"

"You betcha," Tenth affirmed, a grin very clear in his words. And just before the silence of a farewell filled the air, Tenth was adding, " _Oh_ and Michelle?"

A moment later and she would've said her goodbyes, but his voice caught her attention, so she inquired, "Yeah?"

"World's still here, and so am I," he said warmly, _impossibly_ warmly and sweetly and it made her just grin. And she knew he was smiling too. "Love you."

"Love you too," she responded in kind, the smile genuine and her heart swelling. The conversation ended but it lived on in her mind, his words and simply just his presence alone making her feel that really, truly, maybe, after all, the world was going to be just fine.

* * *

Lucille's Diner had an _odd_ sort of aura about it. As always, the parking lot was nearly full, but never completely. There were around twenty parking spaces and, on average, about five were always empty. That meant fifteen people frequented the diner however that didn't count into carpooling. Which would've doubled, tripled, if not, quadrupled the occupants of the eatery. And yet still, it _never_ felt overcrowded.

Michelle found one of the _four_ empty parking spots, pulling her white Subaru into the familiar lot and turning her car off. She leaned forward slightly, looking to the entrance of the windowed building, many customers within already indulging in their lunches. And right at the door by the neon _OPEN_ sign was Tenth, hands jammed into his jacket pockets and an expectant yet unsuspecting look upon his face.

With a small smile, Michelle unbuckled herself and stepped out of the car, locking it remotely as she approached her boyfriend.

"For a minute there I thought maybe you stood me up!" Tenth teased, reaching out to grab onto her hand and warming it instantly (today turned out to be a little colder, the nipping temperatures of fall beginning to fill the air more and more, day by day). "Can you just imagine how _awkward_ that would've made our second date?"

Michelle giggled slightly as they made their way to the front doors, "And who said we'd have a _second_ date?"

Tenth just gasped, sounding offended as he reached for the door handle, "Well now _that's_ just rude! Here I am, being chivalrous," he made his point to open the door in quite the exaggeration, "and you're gonna turn me down? Tsk tsk."

Michelle shook her head, "Being a nice guy doesn't make you a saint that I owe. It makes you a _decent human being._ "

"Duly noted, Miss Morris," Tenth continued to play, their banter putting a smile on Michelle's face.

Today somehow felt different, maybe better, but still the same in a lot of ways. The diner still had that indiscriminately mixed smell of coffee and scrambled eggs with a twinge of syrup, as was in the usual for breakfast and lunch times. It was a soft and casual atmosphere, all the customers enjoying their meals and conversations in a quiet hum. It almost felt like a second home at this point to Michelle and Tenth.

Just as they were reaching for the second set of entrance doors, Michelle felt herself stopping. There _he_ was, again. The assistant manager, Ramsay, that the couple had both exchanged knowing looks of unfamiliarity with one another, was looking to be exiting the doors before them, a paper or two in his hands.

His brows lifted as he spotted them, icy blue eyes lighting up with recognition as that pleasant smile pulled at his lips again. Stopping, he used his free hand to pull the door open for them, stepping to the side.

"Welcome back to Lucille's Diner," Ramsay nodded in a small server bow. " _Please_ , come in."

Tenth and Michelle hesitated just a split moment, her eyes moving from his pale features down to the papers within his hands. Just barely, she caught a glimpse of their contents.

 _'HELP WA'_

That was all she could see, the rest obscured by the angle at which he held them. But it was enough to know exactly what the sign said. She didn't say a word, instead moving with Tenth, who she was sure offered a kind _'thank you'_ as they passed. Their usual booth was free of occupants and, as was in habit, they sat across from one another.

Michelle's attention was caught back at the door, however, watching as Ramsay moved to begin taping one of the signs onto the outside of the entrance. There were some things that lined up perfectly in the universe. Like constellations that looked like ladles, your favorite show airing a new episode on your birthday, and a help wanted sign for your favorite diner the day after being laid off.

" _Michelle?_ " Tenth asked, sounding confused as well as concerned. She returned her attention back to her boyfriend, eyebrows raised somewhat. "Everything alright?"

Michelle took a deep breath before nodding, focusing forward again, "Yeah, yeah, it's just… You saw the papers he had, right?"

Tenth allowed an eyebrow of his to crawl upwards in curious intrigue, "Don't think I caught what they said, no. Why?"

Once again, she was turning back to see Ramsay heading inside now, the paper adorning the outside of the restaurant. He still had one paper left, to which would be a mystery as she looked away before he could notice her eyes on him.

"I think it was a help wanted sign," she went on, the hint of a small smile teasing at the corner of her lips.

Tenth leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as he shook his head, tone a bit tired, "I thought you were gonna take a couple days off to not think about this stuff. You're _already_ wanting to find another job? Don't want to take a break?"

And then all those applications she sent in this morning came rushing into her mind like a bad dream. That's right, she hadn't told him about those. _Yet_.

"Well, I mean…" she trailed off slightly, a small nervous laugh escaping her lips. "I can't just sit on my hands, you know? I sent in some applications online this morning. In fact, that was pretty much all I was doing this morning."

Tenth looked a bit surprised; _should_ he have been though? He knew she was always an ambitious type of person, not one to take things lying down. Maybe he'd been hopeful that he was convincing enough to get her to not try so hard for a couple days.

" _'Some'?_ " he pressed. "How many is _some_ , exactly?"

Michelle could feel her fingers pressing back her dark bangs in some sort of nervous tic, "Like… Ten?"

" _Like **ten?!**_ " Tenth's eyes widened. "That's a _little_ overboard, don't you think?!"

Her brows tugged together in slight frustration, " _Overboard?!_ Tenth. I just lost my job. My job that was just _barely_ keeping me from getting kicked out on the streets. You're acting like **_I'm_ ** overreacting!"

Tenth was quick to shake his head, words quick to amend as well, "No, no, _no_ , I didn't mean-" He paused, sighed, realizing how harsh he sounded just then. "I'm just worried about you. You never slow down and you've run yourself ragged with that job as it was."

Before their conversation could continue, a familiar woman with blonde hair in a curly ponytail approached their table, tablet and pen in hand. She smiled warmly at them, her mood incredibly opposite of the couples', "Hi Tenth, hi Michelle! Can I get you both the regulars?"

Michelle forced a smile onto her face as she looked up, "Sounds good, Hailey. Thanks."

Her perky tone piqued as she jot something down onto the paper, her hair bouncing as she nodded with a toothy grin, "Sure thing!"

As the waitress left their table, it created an odd sort of atmosphere. Her cheery manner brought to light how grim their conversation had been just moments ago. Silence laid over their table as Michelle considered speaking, chewing over his words just long enough to understand what his intent was.

Of _course_ it was good intent, of course he was doing what was best for her. _Trying to_ , at the very least. She allowed her lips to remain pursed a moment or two longer before she found words once again.

"I'm sorry," she admitted, watching him solemnly. "I'm just not used to taking it easy, I guess. It doesn't feel right. _Nothing_ does. Not after Dawn…"

Michelle was looking down, the feelings of sadness beginning to tug at her heart. But Tenth tried to console her, his voice soft and warm like a blanket, " _Hey_ , you don't have anything to apologize for. I should be apologizing. I'm gonna support you no matter what you do, you know that. I just want you to be kinder to yourself. Give yourself a break."

She finally looked back up, the support of his words making the weight on her back just a little less heavy. Like a flower with failing petals being treated to a sprinkle of rainfall.

"I want to try applying here," she said much more confidently. "I need to do it for myself, for my peace of mind and sanity. I get it if you don't approve but I don't need your approval."

A smile of defeat began to crawl onto Tenth's lips. Whether he was proud, resigned, happy, or sad, she couldn't tell. Maybe it was all those things at once and _more_. Either way, it was a moment of affirmation for her. A moment that she felt her own inner strength in this situation coming forward. She _wasn't_ going to give up. Ten applications online, one in person. It had to come up with something soon, _didn't it?_

Several minutes passed, and more pleasant conversations came about. Talk of Stranger Things, moreover. Tenth was a bit skeptical of some of the sci-fi aspects of it, and Michelle was reserving judgement until the very end, as was usual for her when watching something new. And before they could delve further into the writing of the show, there came their food.

Hailey set down each of their plates, handing a steaming cup of coffee to Michelle and a cup of green tea to Tenth. Her smile remained, a botox sort of effect that Michelle could just see herself dealing with if she became a waitress here. Which was fine; she could put on _all_ the fake smiles in the world if she had to.

"Hailey?" Michelle asked just as the waitress was about to walk off. She stopped, stood pleasantly, all ears. "Hey, are you guys accepting applications right now? Because I saw the sign, in the front."

Her perky eyebrows rose, a look of slight surprise tinging her freckled face, " _Oh!_ Yeah, yes, we literally _just_ put that up today! One of the waiters decided to quit suddenly so we're short. Did you want an application?"

Michelle smiled, the situation sounding more and more perfect, "That'd be _great_ , thank you."

And with that, she was bounding off back into the diner to retrieve the form. Tenth smiled a small smile her way, "Just like that, huh?"

" _Just like that_ ," Michelle quipped with a growing smile of her own, reaching forward to put some sugar and cream into her coffee.

And she had barely finished the task of making the bitterness of the coffee more bearable when Ramsay was at their table, a few papers in hand. He had that smile again, sickeningly pleasant and sweet.

"Michelle, _right?_ " he asked, a genuine sense of pleasure in the way her name met his tongue. She nodded before Ramsay was handing her the papers. "I don't think we've ever had a taker on a help wanted sign _this_ quickly! Color me impressed at your ability to jump on an opportunity soon as it presents itself."

Michelle just laughed a bit, putting the papers to the side of her coffee, "Thanks, uh.. _Ramsay_ , right?"

He was nodding promptly, still, **_still_ ** smiling, "Right. I'm the assistant manager."

"We come here pretty regularly," Tenth added, much to Michelle's surprise. "I'm surprised we haven't seen you around before."

Ramsay clasped his hands together, "Ah, well, that's more than likely because I've been tied up with other business for the past year or so. I've been doing a _lot_ of work from home. The owner and I are good friends, so he's allowed me some time to sort things out. _But!_ I'm back now and I'm looking forward to going over your application, Michelle. We're _very_ eager to hire someone new."

His story felt odd, yet his delivery was anything but odd. There were missing details, but it definitely wasn't in their business to prod further. They were just regular customers at a diner and nothing more. Maybe, Michelle thought, she could find out more about that if she became an employee here. Then again, did it really matter?

 _No_. No, it shouldn't have mattered at all.

"Thank you," Michelle smiled up at him, giving a small nod of her head. "I'll fill it out and get it back to you then."

"Can't wait," Ramsay enthused before he was strolling off once more, leaving Michelle and Tenth alone again.

Silence settled between the two as Tenth was shifting in his seat a bit, his voice finally speaking up, "He seems, uh…"

" _Nice_ ," Michelle finished, knowing that Tenth was probably searching for a much different adjective.

Tenth scoffed before taking a bite of his food, " _That's_ a word for it, I guess. He seemed really.. _Eager_."

Michelle eyed the application for a moment as she replied, "You sound worried."

"Not worried," he said as he chewed, swallowing. "Confused. _No one_ should be that happy working food."

She couldn't stop the small bit of laughter from escaping her lungs as she decided to look over the form in more depth after eating, "Fake it till you make it."

Using his fork, Tenth pointed nowhere in general, seemingly referring to the staff, "And _that's_ what you wanna do, end up like them, all fake smiles and _'yes sir, no sir, could I get a refill for you mam'?_ "

"At least I'll get tips," she added with an upturn in tone, as if that made up for everything. "And I mean, we come here enough, might as well get _paid_ for it."

Tenth sighed, "If that's what you want, Michelle."

She couldn't say it was what she necessarily wanted. But it was certainly, without a doubt, what she needed.

* * *

Could you become a pro at filling out applications? Michelle liked to think so. Especially at this point. You would be hard pressed to find anyone else that could've filled out a job application so accurately and so perfectly within the span of ten minutes like Michelle Morris. Not a _t_ uncrossed and not an _i_ undotted.

It was unfortunate that Tenth had to leave as soon as they were done eating, however. Work was calling his name and he had no choice but to go in. His cubicle was missing him, it seemed. So off he went and there she stayed in that beige leather booth, Hailey filling up her third cup of coffee just as Michelle finished filling out the last signatures of the application.

"Could you hand these to Ramsay, please?" she asked pleasantly, offering out the paperwork to the waitress with a small smile.

Hailey nodded as she accepted the application, botox smile and bouncy blonde locks, and she was heading to the back of the diner. Michelle had contemplated just walking out, a sudden and unpredictable bout of anxiety taking over her stomach.

 _But why?_ It made no sense to get nervous **now**. Getting anxious now was like the equivalent of prodding at a hungry lion in its cave beside its cubs and only getting nervous when the lion was rearing up to pounce. The time to be nervous had _long_ since passed. She had to tough this out, see how Ramsay accepted the application. Or even if he would.

The minutes dragged by, her coffee growing colder and colder by the ticking of a clock. She found her leg was doing a bouncing dance all on its own, as if it were begging for her to just get up and go. Maybe she even began to convince herself that she wasn't going to get this job. And that was an oddly bitter emotion. Perhaps she was hoping to get this job _more_ than she realized?

Before she could listen to her gut feeling and just run, two figures had approached from the corner of her eye, catching her attention in its fullest as she looked over to see Ramsay along with another man she just vaguely recognized as the owner and manager. If she recalled right, his name was Negan. There had only been a handful of times she'd seen him about but they had never personally met, surprisingly enough.

He was definitely an older man, perhaps in his mid forties. The greying scruff along his face was intermingled with darker patches, his dark brown hair short and styled back. He looked more casual than you would expect of an owner and manager; he wore thick rimmed glasses, a black jacket with a plain white shirt and dark jeans. If Michelle didn't know better, she would've guessed he was simply a customer and _not_ management.

Nonetheless, Ramsay was smiling her way, Negan holding what looked to be her application and skimming over it. She tried her best to look attentive, a small smile on her face.

"Michelle, this is Negan, he's the owner and manager," Ramsay explained, needlessly so. But she didn't oppose it, simply nodded along as he continued. "We took a look at your application and since you're already here, we decided we'd go ahead and go over it with you, maybe do the interview today, if you're free."

Michelle's eyebrows rose, a genuine feeling of surprise as her stomach did a little jump. _Was this really happening?_ Getting a job interview the _very_ same day she handed in her application? The very same **_hour?_** _Holy shit._

"Oh, wow, _yeah_ I'm definitely free," Michelle nodded quite happily, her smile much more genuine now.

Suddenly, Negan was grinning, the whites of his teeth showing brilliantly as he extended a hand her way, "Well hot damn, that's some good news there darlin', because we are _definitely_ gonna have a chit chat right here. Good to properly meet'cha face to face, Michelle."

It took her a moment but she was moving to grasp onto his large hand, giving it a firm shake, "Thank you, it's good to meet you too, Negan. Do you usually give interviews on the same day you get applications?" She was mostly teasing, trying to make the situation a bit lighter.

Negan laughed as he slid into the booth across from her, "Nah, I like to play _favorites_ sometimes, **especially** when we got people like you noticing our help wanted sign before we even get the thing plastered on our window for five whole minutes. I gotta admit, _that_ has **_got_ ** to be a record."

Without hesitating, Ramsay slid into the booth beside his boss, Michelle now starting to feel that nervousness returning. They both seemed pretty bent on having this interview right now, but Michelle couldn't help but feel like maybe she would fail it and she'd leave feeling worse than ever. She had to push those thoughts away, push them down into the depths of anxiety hell where they belonged.

"So, _Michelle!_ " Negan began once more, hands folding together on top of the papers that were now settled nicely on the table. "You, _obviously_ , really, **_really_** wanna work here. And I mean to the point that it's got **me** a little surprised by it. I mean, you're all over this thing like a _fat kid_ on **_free_** ice cream day in the cafeteria."

Michelle pressed her lips together tightly, shifting in her seat a bit. If she had to admit _one_ thing, this Negan guy **really** had an interesting way with words. She took a quick breath before motioning to the application before him.

"Well, I just lost my job," she admitted a bit woefully. "And I come here a lot so the fact that you started hiring the day after is… It just seemed _perfect_."

"Oh, _man_ ," Negan began, his eyebrows tugging together in a look of sympathy as his voice lowered. "I am so, so sorry that you just lost your job. That has _gotta_ be hard on ya."

The feeling of the corner of her lips tugging up just slightly was causing Michelle to nod somewhat, " _Thank you_ , sir."

"I think we should go ahead and start the interview," Ramsay finally chimed in, that smile staining his lips once more. He turned to Negan, eyebrows raising as he did so, "Don't you think so, Negan?"

Slowly but surely, without his eyes ever leaving Michelle's features, he was grinning again, nodding, "I _absolutely_ do think so. Let's give the eager girl just what she wants, huh?"

It was hard to stop her stomach from doing the little flips again. In fact, it was hard to stop anything right now. She was smiling, a sense of relief overcoming her entirety to the point that she just wanted to jump for joy. Maybe all her freaking out was going to pay off now, maybe she was going to be okay.

"Let's get started then," Ramsay promptly continued. And _promptly_ , the interview began.


	3. Part 3

She had a job again. Michelle had done what she felt may have been impossible and gotten herself a new job. And only the day after she'd lost her last job. It couldn't have gone smoother, if she was honest. It almost went _too_ smoothly, both Ramsay and Negan seemingly so eager to hire her. Had she just smiled all the right ways yesterday? Did she do something absolutely extraordinary in her past life to get this lucky?

Then again, maybe _not_. If that had been the case, then she wouldn't have needed this job in the _first_ place. Nor would her best friend still be missing.

Michelle remembered the day that Dawn had gone missing in **painful** vivid detail. She'd just gotten home from work when she realized Dawn was nowhere in sight. Dawn actually worked from home, a telemarketer ( _everyone's_ favorite) for some obscure company that sold wire and some other things even Michelle wasn't certain of anymore. It was groceries day, so for a time, Michelle had just assumed Dawn was out getting the groceries.

But _hours_ passed. An unusual amount of hours to be gone to the store, of all places. So she pulled out her phone and called her friend. It rang and rang, nothing but voicemail. So she tried several more times, a few texts, and by then it was morning of the next day. Not a word. And that was when she felt something was _absolutely_ wrong beyond measure.

Michelle and Dawn had been the closest of friends for years, the two had become nearly inseparable. Soulmates, nearly. So of course Michelle didn't waste anymore time before she was calling the police and filing for a missing person. A missing best friend. The police came by, swept their apartment for any clues, questioned Michelle, and then they promised to keep her updated as soon as they got any new information.

It had been dead air ever since. Every so often, moreso the month following her disappearance, she would check up with the sheriff on the case. He would reassure her that they were doing everything they could but the trail was hard and cold to follow. Another month passed, then another, then _another_ …

Michelle wasn't going to give up on Dawn. She couldn't. She was still waiting for the day she'd get that call, or the moment Dawn would come back to their apartment. Even though it'd been months with very little to _no_ word on the development of the case, she was still holding out hope. But it got harder and harder each day. Her tears had dried up and it left an exhaustion in its wake.

Tenth had been there the whole way through, of course, bless his heart and kindness. He was a good man like that. But it didn't stop her from feeling so empty. From feeling so _lost_.

So a new job felt like she was climbing out of the rut that had been formed ever since Dawn disappeared. Tenth was happy for her the moment she told him, of course. Although he still nudged that offer of money her way if what she made wasn't enough, to which she had to grudgingly tell him, _yet again_ , that she would consider it **only** if necessary. Cross and burn that bridge when she came to it.

For now, she was getting ready for her first day on the job. Her uniform was simple: a button up white shirt, black slacks, white apron, and a black tie. Nothing over the top nor nothing fancy, as was in Lucille's uniform. She even got her own name tag, affirming that this was _definitely_ happening now.

Within the back of the diner, she was settling her bag away into the employee lockers, the faded blue metal of the locker door slamming shut as she brushed herself off unnecessarily. First day, no pressure. _None at all._ She had to keep telling herself that.

Just as she turned the corner into the kitchen, just inches away from colliding into her was Negan. She felt her heart jump into her throat as surprise took over her, an involuntary yelp of a startle escaping her red lips.

" _Easy_ there, darlin'," Negan chuckled. "Well _look at that_ , you just **own** that uniform! And you're more than on time for your first day; I am _absolutely_ tickled pink by your astute work ethic already! Have you clocked in yet by any chance?"

Michelle couldn't help but breath out a small laugh, a bit nervous around the edges as she brushed back a stray strand of hair, "Thank you, sir-"

" ** _Ah-ah_** ," Negan stopped her, hand waving away her words. "Just call me Negan, sweetheart. None of this _'sir'_ crap."

She was quick to nod a few times, noting that directive order. No _'sir'_. This Negan seemed a _lot_ more laid back and carefree than she had imagined he would be. He always looked rough and terrifying, if she had been honest. In truth, he still was, nothing could shake that from his large demeanor. So it put an odd sort of ease into their working relationship that she knew would no doubt take some time to get used to.

"Right, _Negan_ ," she began again, smile twitching up a bit nervously despite his reassuring grin. "I haven't clocked in yet, to answer your question. Where do I.. do that? Exactly?"

With a motion of his hand, Negan was nodding as he turned, "Follow me, I'll get ya set up just right."

Michelle was lightly biting onto her lip as she followed the taller man, moving out of the back of the restaurant and up to the front counter and onto the one and only register. There sat a touch screen interface, to which Negan pressed on the screen to wake it up.

"Alright, it's _easy peasy_ ," Negan began, his fingers moving about as he explained. "You just open the options down here, go to time, employees, find your pretty little name, and _lookie there_ , big ol' clock in clock out button. So damn easy even the **dumbest** of dumb tech challenged sap could do it. Like makin' lemon squeezies. Got it?"

Michelle nodded, absorbing every little bit of it as she watched her boss, "Yeah, I've got it. No problem. Thank you, _si_ \- **Negan**."

Negan leaned back somewhat, squinting with a grin as he pointed at her, " _Ah_! Caught yourself there. Good shit. Glad to know your memory's not in the crapper. Smart cookie."

She couldn't slip up like that again. It had just been within habit, hadn't it? That's what you got when you'd been spending your entire adult career life giving sir's and mam's left and right to authorities and customers alike. In fact, she was sure Negan was probably maybe _definitely_ going to be one of the fewest exceptions.

Wasn't too often you'd find a boss like this one, now was there?

"Hey Kate! Get over here!" Negan was suddenly shouting across the diner, turning several heads including one Kate, a waitress Michelle recognized, in fact. "Kate's gonna help you get started with the whole waitressing thing," Negan addressed Michelle once more, his voice at a socially acceptable volume once more. "Pleasing people, filling up their cups, taking their tips, _etcetera and etcetera and etcetera._ Don't stress too much, sunshine. It's your first day after all."

Michelle could only smile and nod, trying to sound as grateful as she could, "Thank you, really. I'll work hard."

"Oh I have abso- _damn_ - **lutely** no doubts that you will, darlin'," he was still grinning. "Need anything, me or Ramsay'll be here for ya."

Once again, Michelle nodded before Negan was walking off and Kate was approaching. And now, Michelle felt herself go into autopilot. Michelle working mode. It was like a switch that she had learned to turn on in all her past jobs. It turned out to be a pretty useful thing, bringing her mind away from any kind of wandering and just focusing on the next task.

It was easy with Kate being a familiar face. While they had certainly never gotten to know each other much beyond a few words exchanged over orders, Kate seemed nice. Kate seemed informative. And Kate seemed friendly. She _seemed_ those things and she _was_ those things. It made Michelle's transition into the waitress business feel seamless.

Thankfully (should she even think that way?) Ramsay had been scarce. She'd only seen him in the back, helping call out orders and generally keeping control of the kitchen. There was something that still felt a bit off about it, but was that fair? No. It really _wasn't_ fair. He seemed nice and he seemed pleasant. But was it like Kate where _'seemed'_ and _'was'_ coincided? **That** was yet to be seen.

Soon enough, Michelle didn't need help from Kate, picking up a rhythm and letting that autopilot take on the rest. Taking orders, bringing out food, taking tips, cleaning tables, seating, taking orders, bringing out food, etcetera and etcetera and etcetera, as Negan had eloquently put it. She even got to wait on people that she had recognized as regulars, a few of them even noticing her right back. They'd exchanged a few words ("Oh, you work here now?") but nothing of much substance and nothing to slow down the workflow.

All in all, it was a good first day. A _damn_ good one, at that. No mishap, no spilled orders, no complaints. And in her pockets sat nearly fifty dollars worth of tips. Definitely not bad whatsoever. That feeling of hope she could feel the moment she got that application was returning and in full force, making her feel as though it was validated beyond a doubt.

Things felt like they were going to be okay.

"Good job today, Michelle!" the _seemingly_ and _was_ cheerful and friendly Kate beamed as they both retrieved things from their respective lockers. She was amber haired, olive skinned, and had damn near perfect teeth beyond her small lips. "You did a lot better than I was expecting!"

What was _that_ supposed to mean? Did Kate think she wasn't going to do well? To be fair, it _was_ her first day but it was hard not to look into that. But she wouldn't. She smiled back, shrugging it off.

"Thanks for helping me," Michelle nodded as she slung her bag over her shoulder, pushing the locker shut. "See you tomorrow?"

Kate just laughed lightly as she was pulling a jacket from her locker, "Definitely! Our schedules are pretty much _like_ \- exactly the same, since I'll be helping training you for the next week or so. So yeah! Tomorrow."

Her own locker was shutting as she pulled her jacket on, one hand reaching for her bag and the other waving, "See you!"

Michelle just waved back in affirmation, "Later."

It seemed that Kate _did_ mean well, but maybe she wasn't the most tactful with her words here and there. Nonetheless, it was harmless. Michelle was fifty bucks richer for the day. And she was thinking of heading home, inviting Tenth over, ordering pizza, and watching some more Stranger Things. Reveling in a day of hard work done and relaxing with the man she loved more than anything.

The front counter was passing her by as she was making her way out of the diner when she realized- she had _completely_ forgotten to clock out. How could she have forgotten to do something so simple? She wasn't entirely sure. But she would remedy that now. She didn't want to have more hours than she was assigned logged. That might not get her any favors in the long run, much as she wished it would have.

Mere feet separated her from the register as a familiar voice crawled up her spine, "Are you done for the day, Michelle?"

Turning, there sat Ramsay, the owner of said crawling tone. This was the first time they had spoken all day, which was a bit surprising considering he seemed so eager to see her start working here. Then again, he had seemed pretty busy. She wasn't going to focus on it.

"Yeah, I was uh.." she hesitated a moment, turning back to look at the register. As she did, she realized that there weren't many people within the diner beyond a couple of fellow employees, the closing hours dawning upon the establishment. She looked back to Ramsay, "I was just getting ready to clock out, actually."

He smiled, again such a pleased smile as usual as though it were practiced, and he was approaching the register, "Negan said he showed you how to do it, but I'll clock you out."

"Oh," Michelle said with raised brows as he passed her, "thank you."

"It's no trouble," he said, still smiling, looking down at the screen as he apparently clocked her out. "Any plans for the rest of your evening?"

Was that an odd question or was it just Michelle? She wasn't sure. _Maybe_ it was. But maybe it wasn't. It could be innocent enough in the right intentions. So she had to err on the side of doubt that it was anything ill intentioned.

She gave a genuine shrug, almost as though the motion would be enough of an answer. She cleared her throat, "Pizza, Netflix probably. Nothing really all _that_ interesting."

Was she intentionally trying to make herself sound boring? Maybe. Nobody pursued a boring conversation that way. She just wanted to leave now.

"Ah," Ramsay remarked simply, pressing a button or two more before he was looking her way once more, nodding. "Well, have a good time then. Pizza and Netflix is always a good time. Drive safe."

Michelle forced a small smile as she nodded right back, "Thank you again, Ramsay."

She didn't wait for him to say anything more, turning on her heel and exiting the diner out to her car. Small sprinkles of rain had begun to come down, making the air even cooler than it had been earlier that day. She was well within her car before it really started coming down, thankfully.

What had that interaction been back there? No, no, it was _nothing_. Why would it be anything? The answer was, of course, it wouldn't be anything. It was nothing of note. So she would just treat it that way.

She'd been able to call up both Tenth and a pizza before she was even home, the late night traffic giving her the incentive she needed. If she had waited until she got home to do it, she was certain the pizza place would be closed and Tenth would be calling her on account of being incredibly late. In fact, the pizza guy and Tenth were both there at her apartment before she was, making it just a bit of an awkward encounter.

Nonetheless, pizza was paid for, eaten, and another episode of Stranger Things was down before Tenth had finally asked, "So how was your first day?"

Honestly, she was surprised he hadn't asked sooner. But maybe he was being thoughtful and letting her settle in first before bombarding her with questions. Either that, or at first she had thought maybe he was still in that mindset he hadn't wanted her having this job so quickly to begin with so maybe he was pretending it hadn't happened.

Michelle couldn't help but smile and look over to him as they sat close together on the couch, "It was good. _Really_ good."

"Good," Tenth beamed, sounding genuinely happy about the news.

"I made like- fifty bucks in tips alone," she went on, sounding a bit more excited about it than she originally thought she did. Saying it out loud for the first time that day felt- good. **Proper** good.

Tenth's eyebrows raised, his arm draped about her squeezing somewhat, " _No kidding?!_ That's amazing! I mean, I knew you'd get some pretty decent tips, but fifty on the first day? Michelle Morris, you are going to be _rolling_ in the dough and I couldn't be prouder of you."

There was no stopping the giggle as she pressed into him, hand lightly tapping his chest, "Stop it, you're embarrassing me."

"How's the boss?"

The boss _ES_ were, _well_ … How would she put it?

"Well, there's Ramsay," she went on, sounding a bit estranged and uncertain. "He's nice. _I guess._ But you met him already. And then there's Negan. And he's nice too. Interesting vocabulary. They're both nice, I guess."

"Nice. _You guess_ ," Tenth was emphasizing, an eyebrow raising. "You don't sound so sure about that."

Michelle huffed a small laugh as she was moving to sit up, looking at Tenth, "It was my first day, alright? I don't think I'm gonna get much of an opinion on them on the first day."

There came a scoff in response, "Oh, _trust me_ , you can **absolutely** , one hundred and ten percent, get a complete and _full_ opinion on your boss on day one. And if you haven't then _'nice I guess'_ sounds not so bad."

Slowly, Michelle's smile was growing. Alright, he had a pretty decent point. Maybe the most decent point that could clear up any nervousness she had about this job. Without a word, she was moving, Tenth's arm moving away from her as she straddled herself onto his lap. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her smile never wavering.

"I wanna thank you," she finally spoke, voice quiet and warm.

Tenth raised his brows once again, each of his hands clasping onto her hips unconsciously, "For _what?_ "

She didn't speak, only leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, gentle and soft and caressingly sweet. He pressed into the kiss, their lips melding together as she allowed herself to suckle on his lips lovingly. But it ended in a moment, her smile lingering as she pulled away.

"That was…" Tenth trailed off, looking perhaps a bit dazed and taken aback. " _Really_ nice. I'm sorry, what's the occasion again?"

Michelle laughed, one of her hands moving to press against the stubble on his face, "Because you supported me even though you didn't really agree. Which, I know, _I know_ , you want me to take it easy. And I don't agree. But you were there for me regardless. And you still are." Slowly, her smile began to fall, "And you always _have_ been. Even after Dawn disappeared, you were there. And I don't think I ever really thanked you for it. So.. _thank you._ "

Tenth's lips were pursed, a solemn sort of expression taking over his features as he shook his head, "Wasn't looking for a thanks, it's just what I should do. What kind of person would I be if I _wasn't_ there for you?"

Michelle's smile remained, stained on her features as she moved to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him close in an embrace, " _Still_. You're getting my thanks. So, again, thank you. I really mean it."

His arms were surrounding her, warm and strong, pulling her closer to him, "Wouldn't want to be by anyone else's side other than yours."

And there they remained for several moments, feeding body heat to one another and reveling in each other's heartbeats. Tenth had steady and deep breaths, his lungs rising and falling before rising again, steady and rhythmic. With the rain outside, the heat of the apartment, this moment felt timeless, like nothing could stain this moment or make it go wrong. Like there was not a force in this universe that could ruin it.

Finally, she was pulling away, their eyes meeting one another. The second ticked by, their gazes lingering. The close proximity of one another and the affirmation in their feelings felt strengthened by the heartfelt conversation that had passed moments ago.

She loved him. So, _so_ much. There was no one she felt she could ever love more, no one more vital in her life at this moment than him.

Her eyes were looking down to his lips for just a small moment, Tenth making the same movement of eyes. Nothing but silence between them yet every word in the English language was being communicated in the nothingness. It had become everythingness.

Their lips were meeting once more, this time with a certain fervor that hadn't been there prior. It carried the weight of words unspoken, of feelings that hadn't been muttered but were now just being _felt_. They glided over one another, tongues soon meeting between their mouths as Michelle was running her fingers through his hair. Soft, brown locks slid between her digits while their mouths worked at one another, leaving very little room for breath between each kiss.

Michelle allowed her hands to do as they pleased, dragging down his chest, the tight skin beneath sending a sense of want and need throughout her being. She was only distantly aware of Tenth's own hands, moving up her back beneath her shirt, sending a shiver down each nerve ending.

Both were startled out of the moment as Michelle's phone rang, a small gasp pulling into her lungs as she shot up slightly. Even Tenth had stopped, looking to Michelle for what her next course of action would be.

It was late, though. _Who_ would be calling at this time of night? And _why?_ Perhaps that was all the more reason to answering it.

Reaching to her left to retrieve the phone from the couch, her brows were furrowing for a simple moment before she got a full read on the number and name. Her eyes were widening, mouth coming agape. And Tenth seemed to grasp what was going on almost right away as his own face turned to astonishment.

She hadn't answered a phone call so quickly in her life, " _Hello?!_ "

On the other end was a gruff and deep voice, a voice she hadn't heard in months, "Michelle Morris, right?"

"Yes, _yes_ , it's me," she hurriedly spoke, her stomach doing the worst and best kind of flips possible. "Do you have any news? Is there anything new? Did you find something?!"

"We _think_ so, yes," he agreed, sounding something cross between hopeful and solemn. "We believe we know Dawn's last location."


	4. Part 4

The man that had been put in charge of Dawn's disappearance was one Rick Grimes, a well meaning and a _little-too-southern-sounding-for-this-far-north_ sheriff. He'd promised to Michelle and Tenth and Dawn's parents that she'd be found. He swore it up and down, despite the realistic nature of the case looming in the background. There were _very_ little leads, not a whole lot to go on.

Michelle had gone through some relatively extensive questioning the same day she phoned in the disappearance of her best friend. When did you see her last, what was she wearing, what is her daily routine, did she seem like she wanted to run away; the questions seemed to go on and on, trying to paint a picture that seemed almost impossible to grasp and washed away the moment they tried to get something concrete.

Michelle and Dawn had the unfortunate habit of shopping at a few different shops throughout town. It all usually depended upon what they needed and the money they would be able to spare at the time. Sometimes they liked to get the brand name stuff, the really good stuff that was always a little more expensive than it should've been. But _other_ times, they went really cheap and sometimes even really healthy. So Michelle had to give them **three** different locations to work with, the approximate time Dawn might have left to go shopping, and then it was radio silence.

Not even her car was anywhere in any of the parking lots, a blue and worn Volkswagen. That was until several months after her disappearance, the trail had picked up again with a call on a rainy night.

Michelle could feel herself shifting in the uncomfortable seat of Rick's office, the surroundings almost exactly as she remembered it. Not much had changed and she supposed nothing _should_ have really changed all that drastically. Perhaps it just felt as though so much had happened between then and now. It felt as though years had passed within months. She felt her brows furrowing.

"You found her car _where_ again?"

Rick looked tired, the stubble around his jaw growing into something just more than stubble and his dark curls of hair slicked back in a professional manner. He spoke, accent deep and southern, "Abandoned glass factory, just at the edge of the city. Few miles due east of here, near the coast. D'you have any idea why she'd have been out there?"

Michelle felt a puzzled expression beginning to take over her features as she tried to piece together this new information. Dawn at an abandoned glass factory? That didn't sound like her at all. In fact, it sounded completely _opposite_ of her. She was never the type to wander into any new parts of the city on her own. And Michelle was sure as hell they had never spoken about going to somewhere like _that_.

She shook her head, hands tightening slightly in her lap, "No, I really, _really_ don't. I don't understand why she'd be there… Did you find anything else?"

Rick was leaning back in his chair somewhat, sounding as though he was trying to guard his tone from sounding defeated, "We're still in the process of investigatin' the area. But we checked her car and we didn't find much. Some insurance papers in the glovebox, some CDs, a rotten jug of milk in the back floorboard. Car was locked, no keys in sight. We'll know more soon as we get a good an' clean sweep of the area."

Was it terrible to be beyond disappointed? While Michelle was happy they had finally found her car, at the very least, it seemed to bring more questions than it did answers. What did it mean that Dawn had been at this factory? And why was the milk- _the milk._

"The milk!" Michelle began suddenly, sounding as though she had all the answers now. "So she **did** go to the store! _She did!_ You guys put that part together, right?!"

"We did," he agreed with a small nod, "and we're still lookin' into it. But you're sure neither you or her have been there before? She'd never mentioned coming to that place?"

"No," Michelle settled, shaking her head as she did so. "I honestly had no idea that place even existed until today. And I know Dawn didn't either. She doesn't like abandoned places. She doesn't like anywhere that's lonely like that. She doesn't like being alone…"

And now Michelle could feel herself falling back into the terrible thoughts of just where Dawn was at this moment in time. Was she cold? Hungry? Did she have someone with her? Was she hurt? Was she- **no.** Michelle couldn't think on her mortality. Dawn was alive. She _had_ to be.

"Sheriff," Michelle began once more, "can you take me to that place? Maybe I could help, maybe I could find something you guys are missing, or- or maybe I could just-"

" _Michelle_ ," he interjected suddenly, voice firm. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you go near that place. Not until we've swept it clean for any evidence of her further whereabouts. We're already a few months behind on this thing as it is."

Defeat pounded at her heart in cruel ways, making her feel even _more_ helpless than ever before. Before now, there was little to no information. There was nothing to latch onto. But now there was a light, a single star in the darkness. And now Michelle wanted nothing more than to pursue it to its end rather than sitting on her hands while the police did all the work. Not that she _hadn't_ been doing that until now, she supposed…

"Hey," Rick was speaking once more after an extended silence, his voice as warm and as encouraging as he could make it. "We're gonna figure this out. I swear to you we're gonna get on this thing and whatever happened to Dawn, we're gonna find out."

There was nothing else to do but nod, wasn't there? Besides, as Michelle eyed the analog clock adorning the wall behind Rick, she realized that she had to be clocking in at work soon. Oh, right. That whole thing still existed. This room felt like a vacuum, as though real life still wasn't happening beyond its white walls. As though Lucille's Diner wasn't an establishment that she'd just gotten a job at and as though there was a chance Dawn was still at home, making calls and coming home from a grocery trip.

Michelle could feel her hands tightening into balls for just a moment before they loosened, the duty and responsibility to her job pulling her strings.

"Was there anything else you needed to tell me?" she asked, sounding incredibly downtrodden. Not that anyone could blame her, certainly.

Rick just shook his head, "No, that's all. You're free to go. We'll give you a call if we find out anything more."

She nodded, standing from the chair and moving toward the door. Wasn't she supposed to shake his hand or something? She couldn't, for the life of her, bring herself to remember pleasantries. Not when this whole thing was on her mind so heavily. Then again, she was sure that Rick understood. He was just that kind of well meaning guy from the south.

"Thanks," she muttered, slipping out of the room and finding her way out of the large building of law and order.

The drive home to get ready and changed was an uneventful one, her thoughts far too bogged down with all this new information to really notice anything else. In truth, a car accident could happen _right_ in front of her and it **still** wouldn't be enough to shake her from this thought process. It kept replaying like a bad movie, many parts of the script missing and unedited, as though the writer couldn't nor wouldn't let the audience in on all the secrets.

Factory, rotten milk, disappeared without a trace. They were the main bullet points but there was nothing to expand upon there. And it was so incredibly frustrating that she could still do nothing about it, no matter how badly she wanted to.

Calling Tenth on her way to work and filling him in on the details didn't seem to help any. It didn't make it feel any less lonely. An echo chamber of words and thoughts and emotions being shouted into the void, questions without answers.

"I _think_ I know what factory he's talking about," Tenth went on in a thoughtful tone, still seeming to absorb the new information. "It's been shut down for years."

Michelle could feel her brows knitting together as she came to a stoplight, "Wait, you knew about this place? How did you know about this random glass factory anyway?"

"Call me incredibly smart and knowledgeable," Tenth teased, although he seemed to realize right away that it wasn't exactly the right moment for humor of any kind. "Really though, it was one of the _biggest_ in the city for nearly a century. _Something, something,_ made a lot of jobs, _something, something,_ history. And then technology came along and debt and, well… Place got shut down. That's just about all I know, though."

None of that seemed helpful, much as Michelle wished it had been. Then again, a century old glass factory didn't seem as though it would have much connection to Dawn anyhow so she wasn't entirely sure what she was expecting when he began his little history lesson. In her mind, however, she knew that there didn't _have_ to be a connection. But she was looking for any and every kind of clue she could get right then.

"Thanks for the history," Michelle muttered, sounding a bit more disappointed than she had intended. She took a quick breath, "But anyway, I'm uh… Almost at work. So I'll talk to you later."

Tenth sounded as though he was trying to edge a comforting smile into his words, "Sounds good. Love you."

Michelle couldn't help the small twitch of a smile, "I love you too… Really."

* * *

The power was out when she pulled into the parking lot of Lucille's. Even the sign, usually bright red in neon letters of 'LUCILLE'S DINER', was dim. Not that it mattered all too much, it was still a very clear and very mild day making the sign have a natural sort of glow, but it was the neon 'OPEN' sign that gave it away the most. It was completely dark. Not to mention the deeper shadows and darkness seen within the windows.

As if today wasn't interesting and eventful _enough_.

As she stepped into the diner, there were several customers sitting around, just a select few eating their food but a few others looking about to leave themselves.

It took Michelle only a moment to make her way to the front where Kate sat speaking with Negan, both their attentions turning to Michelle as she came behind the counter.

"What's going on? Why's the power out?" Michelle asked, genuinely curious, as anyone would be regarding their place of work having no power.

Negan looked completely unamused, frustrated to the core as he grumbled, "Some _asswipe_ screwed **everything** up! I've got some work being done to the back and _oopsies!_ One of 'em blew a fuse! Fuckin' _useless_."

Kate sighed as she looked over to Michelle, "It's been out for almost half an hour. Which is like.. really, **really** bad for our freezers."

"Got Ramsay back there working it out but they're all takin' _THEIR SWEET ASS TIME!_ " Negan shouted towards the back of the restaurant, his voice much louder without the addition of working electricity. Some of the remaining customers shifted uncomfortably in their seats and Michelle was a hundred percent certain that was the last straw to make them up and leave.

Some deeply rooted immature part of Michelle wanted to immediately respond, _'So does that mean I don't have to work today?'_ but then she remembered that bills were a thing. The kid in her started to cry about that. A lot.

Instead, she just settled for, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

For just a moment, Michelle could make out a smile and a look of pleasant relief in Negan's features through the dim light as he watched her, "Now _that's_ the kinda can do attitude I hired you for! _Hot dog_ , if that ain't a worker ready for anything. I might shed a tear." He was quickly waving away her words, literally, with his hand as he went on, " _Nah_ , not your department unless you've ever studied electrical engineering, **which** I'm sure you haven't. Pardon the seemingly sexist remark. Let the tweedle dees and tweedle dums back there handle it. Otherwise I'm gonna _fire_ them, _rehire_ them, then **_fire_** them **again**."

Once more, Michelle found herself a bit baffled at Negan's way with words, but she had to admit, it was a _little_ amusing. But perhaps she'd find it much more amusing if today hadn't started out the way it had. Not if the dangling carrot stick of information on her missing best friend hadn't reared its ugly but necessary head.

"If you say so," Michelle settled. "How am I gonna clock in though?"

Negan's strong eyebrows rose as he chuckled, "All work and no play, huh? So tenacious. I _like_ it. Just sit tight for a bit, see if we can get the power going again and then we'll get you clocked in. And try not to get your panties in a twist, I'll make sure you're clocked in on time."

There was a slight relief there in that reassurance, a smile lacing through her lips as she nodded, "Okay, thank you, Negan."

He just grinned that award winning smile, "Sure thing, darlin'. Might wanna get a flashlight or somethin' if you're goin' to put your stuff up. It's _pretty_ dark back there."

Reaching into her pocket, Michelle retrieved her phone, bringing up the flashlight setting and squinting as her immediate area was illuminated. She hadn't realized just how much she'd become accustomed to the darkness surrounding them in such a short time, but it wasn't a big deal. She was beginning to make her way towards the employee lockers when she heard Negan speak up once more.

"Oh, and Michelle! _Steer clear of the freezer!_ **That's** where they're doin' the work!"

Steer clear of the freezer. Alright, she could do that. Not that she would really even have any reason to do anything back there as it was. _Where_ exactly was the freezer anyhow? She hadn't been shown to it just yet. There wasn't much reason to, seeing as she wasn't working in the kitchen. Maybe it was just best to shrug it off and not think too much into it. As Negan said, it wasn't her department.

Michelle found her locker with no problem, the sound of several men further back into the restaurant speaking in muffled sentences behind walls. The freezer must've been relatively close in that case if she could hear them.

With one hand, she found her locker, inputting the combination one number at a time before unlocking it and placing her bag and jacket within. As she closed the door, the sudden and familiar voice of Ramsay was filling the room.

"Michelle? Is that you?"

Michelle would be lying if she said that didn't just scare the everloving shit out of her. She would also be lying if she claimed she just had the hiccups instead of nearly jumping out of her skin. Her body was quick to turn, shining the light from her phone directly at him as if it were a spotlight in a prison.

Ramsay winced a bit, bringing up a hand to shield his eyes, " _Easy_ , Michelle, it's just me."

"You _scared_ me," Michelle sighed, bringing her phone down somewhat. Her brows were tugging together, "Negan told me you were supposed to be working on the whole power thing. What're you doing over here?"

Michelle hadn't meant for her voice to be as accusing as it was, but she was still trying to calm her racing heart from the sudden company. Being in near total darkness could certainly make anyone on edge.

It took her a moment to notice that Ramsay had a small flashlight himself; how had she missed that?

"I was just heading up front to tell Negan the power should be back any second."

Michelle was nodding somewhat, "Oh, okay, that's good. Um.. can I ask what exactly they're doing? Negan mentioned he was having some work done but he wasn't specific about it."

Ramsay just smiled, tone nonchalant, "Just some repairs to the control board and replacing some coils; nothing really all that exciting. Turns out one of the workers rerouted the power to the freezer control board wrong, overloaded it. But it's not a big issue and should be back up and running soon enough."

Control board and replacing coils? Michelle couldn't say she was much an expert in freezers and just how they worked, but from what Ramsay was saying, it made enough sense. She remembered when she was younger her dad actually did something kind of similar, only it was with the lighting in their basement. They didn't have power for hours, had to call in some professionals. Which was very much to her father's dismay and at his _'expertise'_ expense.

She almost smiled fondly at the memory when she was brought back into reality as the lights were suddenly flickering back on, her smile now in the present as opposed to a memory. The many sounds of the restaurant coming back to working order surrounded them; so many sounds that were easy to miss living in the 21st century.

"Ah!" Ramsay grinned, turning his flashlight off as he did so. He motioned up to the fluorescent light above them. " _See!_ What'd I say?"

"Holy shit! We are _**back**_ in business, folks! _Hallelujah!_ "

And that was, _very_ obviously, Negan. It was hard not to allow a small bit of laughter at that one, Michelle trying to stifle it. But with one look at Ramsay, she could see he was somewhat amused by it as well.

Ramsay's smile grew, if that was even possible, "Back to it then, yes? You haven't gotten to clock in yet, have you?"

Michelle shook her head, an unconscious smile remaining at her lips, "No, I got here when the power was still out. I'll go do that now though."

"Sounds good!" Ramsay went on as he nodded her way, giving her the go ahead to head back to the front. And so she did, his voice calling out behind her as she went on, "Make sure to give the workers their space back here until they're all done!"

Duly noted, Michelle thought. Even more duly noted that both Negan and Ramsay had to tell her to stay away from the freezer. Should that have been odd? Probably not. They were both just being managers, after all. Michelle cleared the thoughts and clocked in.

Despite the odd beginning to the day, everything else was pretty- normal. It was _almost_ identical to the day before. Some of the same people as well. Familiar faces in such a familiar place, it was almost easy to forget the information she'd gotten this morning.

That damn factory had its claws dug deep into her thoughts, unwilling to let go until there was some more of.. Something. _Anything_. But **_what?_** Even autopilot Michelle couldn't shake it and because of it, she felt like she was only half there. Which wasn't the best as far as work performance had gone. But it seemed she didn't really need to worry too much about it.

"Great work today, darlin'," Negan was suddenly speaking, approaching her at the register as she was clocking out. "Kate tells me you've been doing real great. **_So_ ** great, in fact, I'm not sure she should even be trainin' you anymore. Second day in and you're **ownin'** the place, freakin' **_good_ ** for you!"

Michelle smiled, a genuine smile, one that spoke volumes of her relief. She truly hadn't felt as though she was giving it her all so to hear that from her boss was really great. Unless he was just bullshitting her (let's be honest, he _seemed_ the type), but she wasn't entirely sure what he would gain from that. Maybe he was just being nice but either way, she would take the compliments.

"Thank you," she smiled more, returning her gaze to the screen for a moment as she finished clocking out. "Did they finish the work in the back?"

Negan almost looked as though he was surprised she even asked but it lasted on his expression for just a second before he was tilting his head back in a small nod, "Yeah, yeah, all done and dandy. Freezer's in tip top shape again. And it better stay that way, for their sake. Can't have them _ruining_ my business over some shoddy work, now can we?"

"Maybe you should hire someone else if it happens again," Michelle offered, trying to make the conversation not have such an abrupt and awkward end to it.

Her boss just snorted, "Maybe I should, these numbnuts were **all** thumbs, apparently. _Anyway!_ Don't let me keep ya, get outta here, go Netflix and chill or whatever it is you do after work."

She had to admit, she was relieved for Negan just cutting to the chase and for that, she was grateful. Ending conversations had never been her strong suit so it was a welcome bit of words from the man. Not to mention, it made her laugh lightly.

"See you tomorrow," she finished, grabbing her bag from the counter and beginning to make her way out of the diner. But Negan's voice was booming through the restaurant just as she had her hand on the door.

"Oh yeah shit, _hold up!_ " Michelle was turning, looking back to him as he went on. "I need you to be on closing duty tomorrow. And it's _not_ a request."

That actually sounded pretty okay in Michelle's mind. If she got to close then that meant more hours and more hours meant more time spent being busy and more money. It was a _win-win_ in her book. She smiled once more, nodding.

"You got it, Negan."

The sun was just disappearing beyond the horizon when she slid into her car, the wind biting before she closed the door. She buckled herself in, turned the radio on, and brought out her phone to tell Tenth she was heading home.

But she froze. She watched the blinking vertical line, waiting for her text to be input. A bad line of thoughts were beginning to prey at her mind, a very, **_very_ ** bad line of thinking. It was a _bad_ idea through and through but she couldn't shake it off. The factory…

She couldn't stop her thumbs even if she wanted to, searching up the abandoned glass factory near the coast of Chicago. Not a whole lot of factories like that. In fact it was the only abandoned glass factory in the city. She had the address, she had the gas, she had the curiosity and determination.

But her rational mind was screaming at her to not go. Rick wouldn't be happy. The _police_ wouldn't be happy. In fact, there was a very good chance Tenth would be the unhappiest out of them all. **_Combined._** And _yet_ …

The automated voice of the GPS on her phone had begun to give her the directions she needed to get there. It was pretty close to the diner itself, which was relatively convenient. And before she could convince herself of being rational or anything otherwise, she was following the route on her GPS to the abandoned glass factory.


	5. Part 5

This really had to go down as one of Michelle's _worst_ ideas and she hadn't fully realized it until she was pulling up to the factory itself. The light of day was fading fast but it was still light enough out that she could see the building and the surrounding area in plain sight. The building was laid with red brick, many of the windows looking stained with a dark something or other, some were even broken and missing, and there was a lot of natural wear and tear to the place in general. There was a large fence surrounding most of the place but in one particular area, the fence looked to have been knocked down at some point.

Michelle noticed a few road blockers had been placed in front of the missing bit of fence, striped in black and white with a very clear **'DO NOT ENTER'** sign placed in front. They looked newer and Michelle realized they were probably placed there by the police. Now she felt the pressure of being caught upon her. There would be no playing around with this one. Not if she got caught.

She wasn't planning to get caught, though. She just needed to check this place out, to get some sort of… _Validation?_ She wasn't entirely sure what she was here for, now that she thought about it more. What was she planning to find? Maybe somewhere in her mind she thought she'd find a clue that the police hadn't and it'd bring them closer to finding Dawn.

She didn't know. But she was here and she felt as though there was no turning back.

Taking a deep breath, she parked her car before the road blockers, turning it off and being sure to grab her phone and lock her car. She looked behind herself at the road she'd come down, seeing that there wasn't a single soul in sight. This part of town seemed to be like a forgotten afterthought, as though everyone had moved on from it and left it behind. Like a toy from childhood, no longer necessary.

It was still hard to not feel like she was being watched in some way. But this was place was empty. _Very empty._ And she had to keep reminding herself of that. So she strengthened her resolve and stepped past the road blockers. They were like an imaginary threshold that once she was past, she truly felt like there was no going back.

Now she was within what appeared to once be a loading and unloading zone, a large semi or two looking to be completely run down and no longer working. How long had they been there like that, she wondered. But it wasn't important. What _was_ important was where had Dawn's car been?

Just before one of the many garage-style doors at the bottom of the building, there was what looked to be something like an oil leak. That was when Michelle remembered Dawn's car always ended up having an oil leak if it wasn't attended to every so often. She'd always complained about wanting to get it permanently fixed, but money wasn't endless, so duct tape had been the answer for the longest time.

That had to have been where her car was. That had to have been where they'd found it. The duct tape must have run thin during its stay here. Which led her to wonder if the car had been here since the first day Dawn had gone missing.

"What were you doing here…" Michelle muttered to herself as she approached the oil stain, staring at it as if it would give her some kind of answer. But, of course, nothing came. She almost wished her car was still here, to give her some sort of familiarity and comfort of seeing her car again. Something to remind her Dawn had once existed in the same plane of being as her.

She shrugged the thoughts off. She wondered if she could get inside somehow. Michelle went to each garage door, trying to pull it up, but they were all either locked or rusted shut. She wasn't getting in that way. Even the one lone door was locked tight. But then she saw a busted window, just low enough that she could climb within to get inside. If _that_ was how she was going to get in, then it was just how she was going to get in.

Michelle pocketed her phone, swallowing a bit roughly as she bit onto her lip. There was still some glass jutting out along the side rim, making this more difficult than it needed to be. She'd have to be careful, knowing she could very easily cut herself. She couldn't leave any evidence for the police to find, especially if it was something as vital as blood. She had to be in and out of here with no definitive traces.

Each of her hands moved to the bottom of the window, clasping firmly onto the areas where no glass jutted out before she was lifting herself up, gently and carefully, and putting one leg through. Another leg went in and she was on the other side. She sighed to herself in relief, but she almost regretted breathing in deeply afterwards.

The smell of this place was strong and certainly not pleasant in the least bit. It was musty, the stinging scent of rust strong, and something else she couldn't place but it was incredibly toxic. She knew she couldn't stay in here for long, her lungs already protesting. She settled for bringing the sleeve of her jacket over her hand and pressing it against her nose. Shallow breaths through her mouth.

Her phone was out once more, the flashlight feature illuminating what was before her. Which wasn't much at all. It was a wide, _incredibly_ wide and open room. Some wooden crates sat around, some rusted bars and disused plates of indiscriminate metal laid around as well, their heydays long since past. They were destined for nothing more than gathering rust and polluting the earth.

The ceiling, from what Michelle could see, looked as though it had a leak, some parts hanging down in a somewhat threatening manner. This place obviously hadn't seen any kind of life in quite some time and, from what Michelle could gather, she seemed to have been the first one to step into it ever since it shut down. Apart from the police, that was.

It was incredibly dark and suddenly Michelle felt frightened. It was so empty and quiet and just- _there_. Yet again, she was questioning why she had even come here in the first place.

The smell had begun to seep through the sleeve of her jacket, making the idea of just leaving more and more appealing the longer this went on. What was she even expecting to find inside? Perhaps some part of her believed she'd pop in and find Dawn there, _right there_ , just waiting to be discovered. As if the police hadn't already checked out the inside as it was.

But she felt she wouldn't be doing this trip any justice if she just left without checking the place out anyway. So she did. She walked around, any kind of light from outside disappearing just as she was making her way back to the window she first came into. There were just more pipes, more wooden crates, and more rust. A lot of rust. But mostly empty. Just more of the same she got a first glimpse of.

There were some doors she tried, but they were, _of course_ , locked. And there _did_ seem to be a metal walkway above her, but she could find no way to get up there. There was really nothing more here and now this journey felt useless. So much for finding the _one_ prime clue and saving the day.

Feeling defeated and silly all at once, Michelle shoved her phone into her pocket once more as she approached the window she came into, the darkness outside now incredibly prevalent. She'd been in here a bit longer than she anticipated. She just wanted to get home. There was no doubt Tenth would start to get curious where she was; for all he knew, she was just staying at work late. Which was a story she would stick to.

Just like before, she placed both her hands onto the windowsill carefully, being sure not cut herself. But unlike before, she was one leg out and one leg in when she saw something that made her heart stop dead in its tracks. The very clear and visible sign of headlights approaching around the side of the building, the side _opposite_ of where she had parked, were lighting up the area.

In the sudden revelation that Michelle was no longer alone, she was rushing forward out of the window, being careless enough that a piece of jagged glass dug into her leg. She could feel it cutting into her skin, a hiss of pain escaping her lips as she felt the fresh and hot rush of blood on her leg. She was scared now. So, **_so_** scared. What if it was the police? What would they do with her? Would they think she was the one to have made Dawn go missing in the first place?

But then her thoughts went to a worse place. What if it _wasn't_ the police. _What if…_

She didn't entertain that thought, there was no time to. She was immediately bringing her hand to her leg to try and staunch the bleeding. It was impossible to tell how much she was bleeding, but she could certainly feel a decent amount of it. Shit, she hoped she wouldn't need stitches for it or anything.

The lights were growing closer so she had to think quick. One of the abandoned semi trucks was nearby so she darted to it, hiding behind it as best she could. Her leg throbbed in pain, even more so when she crouched down, but she did her best to look past the pain. She peeked around the front of the truck, watching as a large vehicle came into view.

Even in the darkness, she could make out that it was not your usual car. And the more it came into view, she could see that it was a tow truck. As was usual for a tow truck, it did look to be towing a car, a small truck. She could easily make out the whiteness of the smaller truck against the stark darkness.

So many questions began assaulting her mind; what was this tow truck doing bringing this truck here? Why? More importantly, _who?_ And why at this time?

Suddenly, the tow truck stopped, the driver within allowing it to remain there. Michelle then started to piece together some things, things that there was no way to confirm, but she had a feeling it had to be true.

It felt as though years had passed before the tow truck began to move again, turning to make a wide loop and driving away the same way it had come in. And just like that, the sound of the engine was gone and nothing but crickets and the distant sound of the highway filled the air.

Then and only then did Michelle realize she should have gotten her phone out to record this or take pictures or _something._ But then again, she shouldn't have been here in the first place. Which reminded her she needed to just get the hell out of there.

Her leg throbbed in pain as she stood up straight once more, the feeling of sticky blood covering her hand and jacket, reminding her of the glass on the window. Michelle needed to make sure she didn't leave behind any trace of her visit behind and she needed to do it quick.

She checked the window, breaking off and taking the decent size of glass that had a fleck of her blood on it and made sure to take it with her for later discarding. Next, she made sure there was no blood on the ground, thankful she hadn't been bleeding enough to drip any where she had crouched. It seemed her pants and jacket were absorbent enough.

Without wanting to stay a second longer, she was in her car and heading straight home.

* * *

The cut wasn't nearly as bad as she had thought it was. Michelle was imagining an incredibly large gash, overflowing with blood. And while it wasn't just a tiny cut, it wasn't terribly big either. Certainly _not_ worthy of any stitches.

Michelle was just about to toss her jeans into the trash when she got a call on her phone. It was Tenth. _Oh shit._

"Hello?" Michelle answered as she began washing off her cut in the tub of her bathroom. Time to act like she _hadn't_ just been somewhere she shouldn't have and seen shit she probably definitely _shouldn't_ have.

Tenth sounded worried, clearly and with reason, _"Michelle?_ **Where** are you?"

She winced a bit as the lukewarm water hit her leg, a little fresh blood pooling out, "I'm at home. Why?"

"I've been texting you, you haven't replied," he sighed, his voice only slightly relieved. "Is everything alright? _Are you okay?_ "

 _"Sorry,_ long day at work," Michelle lied, although it made her feel even worse than she already did. "I was gonna text you back soon. Ish."

" ** _Soonish?_** " Tenth sounded exasperated. "Michelle, I've been worried **sick** about you!"

She had to admit, it was sweet that he had been worried but she couldn't, for the life of her, understand why he was as worried as he was. After all, he knew that she was going to get as many hours as she could at work so it shouldn't have been _too_ suspicious that she wasn't home until now, right?

Her brows furrowed as she reached for the bottle of peroxide just to her right, "I'm _fine,_ Tenth, I was just working. What's gotten into you all of a sudden?"

"You haven't heard?" Tenth went on, sounding as stunned as he did concerned. "You haven't seen the news?"

Michelle was frozen for a moment, bottle of peroxide in her hand as she tried to think over whether she had seen the news today. And the answer to that was a definite _no._ She never cared too much for the news, not after the segments that involved Dawn once she was reported missing. Could it have been..?

"Michelle," Tenth went on before the silence could go for too long. "Someone else went missing, another woman."

* * *

Tenth had been insistent on coming over and staying with Michelle that night. The news had shaken him up and it had shaken up even Michelle a bit when she'd heard how similar this case and Dawn's had been. They were both about the same age, shared a lot of the same features. Dark hair, dark eyes, fair skin. And with that, maybe Tenth was right to be worried. Maybe Michelle was right to feel scared.

Now Michelle felt bad about not calling or texting Tenth sooner. She didn't doubt that he had probably been worried over said disappearance being Michelle herself. But _no,_ she had been trying to play detective, trying to be the one to find that vital piece of information that the trained professionals couldn't find. But it just didn't work out like that in real life.

Although there _was_ that tow truck. Something she felt in the pit of her stomach was something she wasn't meant to see. Today had been a long day.

Michelle felt as though she would be putting Tenth through needless heartache and worry if she declined him coming to spend the night at her place. And besides, maybe she was too scared to sleep alone tonight. Maybe she needed him here for peace of mind. To wash away everything these past few months had been, everything tonight had culminated into being.

The bleeding had completely stopped and she now had a proper bandage on the wound, knowing soon enough her leg would be like new with enough time. She also hoped that it wouldn't scar so she'd have to be watchful of that. And with that came the decision she could make about being upfront with Tenth, sharing just what she had done and what she had seen.

The disappearance of a woman named Sherry Bewer on the same night Michelle had seen what she saw seemed to make everything just that much scarier. That much more intricate and detailed. And that much more connected. But _nothing_ was concrete. Michelle wasn't even supposed to have been at that factory today. Or _any_ day, not while Dawn was still missing.

Yet again, Stranger Things couldn't compare to what was happening in Michelle's life. Though she wished it were, the things happening in that fictional world somehow more comforting and not _nearly_ as terrifying as it was now. Tenth made dinner, some kind of soup, and before she knew it, they were both within her bed.

Michelle had been sure to wear some of her longer pajama pants to hide the wound on her leg, not wanting any kind of questions about it. She didn't want anything of tonight to be spoken about unless she spoke about it herself. Which felt like a longshot.

The darkness of her bedroom felt so far removed from the darkness of the factory. It felt much more comforting, the outside world unable to seep into this moment. Michelle was pressed against Tenth's chest, his arms wrapped around her like a strong and protective castle. As though _nothing_ could hurt her here.

She pressed herself deeper against him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his v-neck. He smelled like vanilla and home and comfort, the warmth of his body nearly enough to drag her away from such vicious thoughts.

 _"Hey.."_ she began quietly, knowing that they were both still wide awake, if it was any indication by their shallow breathing. "If I told you something I did… and it was something I _shouldn't_ have done.. And if I saw _something_ I shouldn't have…"

Now she was almost too scared to continue, but she knew she had to. Yet the silence stretched on, the quiet of the room like an enemy to her course of words.

Tenth's words rumbled in his chest, his voice just as quiet, " _What d'you mean?_ What.. did you do?"

That response shouldn't have made her feel guilty. But it did. She wasn't guilty of _anything,_ she had to remind herself of that over and over. _She wasn't guilty._

She took a deep breath, _"Nothing…_ Something happened tonight is all. _Maybe…_ Maybe I'll tell you tomorrow. But you can't get mad. Promise me you won't..?"

"That's not fair," he muttered. "But okay. _I promise._ "

There was that silence once more, settling itself between them. Michelle felt herself shifting, moving even closer and pressing her forehead against his chest. He held her just that much closer, his thumb rubbing her back gently.

" _I miss her…_ " Michelle uttered just barely above a whisper, tears threatening the backs of her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut. " _ **God** , I miss her…_"

Just faintly, Michelle could make out the softness of Tenth's lips in her hair, pressing down as he murmured against her, "I know, Michelle… _I know._ "


	6. Part 6

In the morning, Tenth already made breakfast. Michelle could smell it the moment she woke up, very distinctly eggs and bacon and toast. So traditional and so sweet, Michelle probably would have smiled at the thoughtfulness of the action- if only last night hadn't come rushing back to her in droves. She was suddenly _very_ aware of how sore her leg was as she sat up in bed, her hair falling over her shoulders in untamed ways.

The events of last night made her feel as though she'd aged many years, all the fear and uncertainty being mixed together into a concoction of exhaustion this morning. She felt resigned and defeated, seeing the scene of what was believed to be Dawn's last location and finding nothing. Not even Dawn's car. The police, she knew, must have taken it into custody. Which would only make sense.

What _still_ didn't make sense was the tow truck towing the white truck. Pulling into the place only to turn around and leave. What had that been about exactly? Michelle was afraid to connect the dots, thinking that maybe last night's missing Sherry Bewer had something to do with it. And that maybe it also connected back to Dawn Drake. But how much tangible evidence was there for that?

In truth, _nothing at all._ And perhaps _that_ was what drove Michelle the most mad about the whole thing. She had absolutely nothing concrete.

Nonetheless, she decided to drag herself out of bed, not even bothering to get dressed just yet. She still had a few hours before she needed to be clocking in at work, getting dressed and putting on her face for the day could wait.

Silently, she stood at the doorway of the kitchen, watching with a tired smile on her lips as she saw Tenth moving around some eggs within the pan on the stove. They'd always talked about moving in together at some point. But Michelle was the only one not quite willing to take that step just yet. _Especially_ after Dawn's disappearance. Tenth was more than willing and ready but something kept holding her back from accepting it.

Luckily Michelle got the boyfriend that was patient and understanding beyond belief and respected what she wanted. So they kept separate places despite having been together for nearing on five years now. Yet the bed they shared the night prior, then the breakfast in the morning; it was all a glimpse into what _could_ have been. What could _still_ be. It just felt so wrong without Dawn in the picture too.

"You didn't have to make breakfast, y'know," Michelle said quietly, moving closer to him.

Tenth was turning to look her way, a warm smile on his face, "No, 'course I didn't **have** to, but I _wanted_ to. Sounds like you had a rough night last night."

And then came the memory of what she'd said moments before falling asleep last night. _Shit,_ she did tell him something happened, didn't she? Now she was slightly regretting it; her mind was still in the process of piecing everything together. There was no way she would really be able to form everything together into coherent sentences about what happened. _Would she?_

Michelle rubbed her upper arm slightly, looking to the side, "Yeah, something like that."

"Still don't wanna talk about it?"

How long could she string him on like this? Michelle was certain that he was no doubt dying to know, even though he didn't show it very well.

She forced a smile as she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, his stubble tickling her lips before she was pulling away, "Not before I get some of your _amazing_ eggs."

Tenth was just beaming then, apparently flattered and maybe she inflated his ego a bit too much there. But it wasn't as though it was untrue. The eggs really _were_ quite amazing. And it was almost enough to wash away recent events. _Almost._

"I'm gonna go take a shower and get ready for work," Michelle said as she brought her plate to the sink. "I think I'll go in early today."

Tenth watched her as she passed by him, his eyebrows tugging together in a momentary look of concern, "Why don't I take you to work?"

She couldn't help but feel like this was him being overly worried and protective. After the recent disappearance, she supposed she couldn't blame him. _And yet…_

"You don't have-"

"I know, I know," Tenth cut in, "I don't have to do it, but I **want** to. Please, it'll make me feel better if I'm there to drop you off and pick you up. _Plus!_ Carpooling. Saves gas."

Could she give him this much? Maybe so. It would only be fair, especially since she still didn't feel ready to talk to him about what happened at the factory. So she smiled, _much_ more genuine this time, and gave a nod.

"Alright," Michelle agreed softly. "If it'll make you feel better."

Tenth's smile was growing, a sort of relief behind the expression, "Brilliant. I'll be ready soon as you are, just gimme the word."

Michelle was beginning to walk off once more but then a thought hit her, the words of Negan replaying quite vividly.

" _Oh_ , that's right," Michelle stopped, turning to face Tenth once again. "Almost forgot- Negan wants me to help close tonight. So you'll probably have to pick me up pretty late. That gonna be okay?"

Suddenly, Tenth was frowning as though he tasted something sour on his tongue, "It's your third day and you're _already_ closing? Bit of a rush there, don't you think?"

Michelle shrugged, "I think Negan thinks I'm good at what I do. That's not so bad, right? Besides, it means more hours for me."

Tenth sighed, knowing Michelle well enough to know that no matter what he said, she probably wouldn't budge on it. And wouldn't he know, he was _absolutely_ right.

"Okay," he gave in with a nod, "I'll be there to pick you up, no worries. Just call me before you get off."

She smiled and nodded right back, "I will."

Before she got into the shower, Michelle decided to remove the bandage covering the cut on her leg, the wound now sealed up but looking red and angry and just unpleasant in general. She grimaced at the sight of it, thankful that there were still a good amount of bandages within the bathroom to replace it. It was just several inches wide, cutting horizontally across the side of her thigh. She was thankful that it hadn't cut vertically, something that might've ended up worse, she was sure.

The shower felt good, the water stinging only slightly on her leg, but it was easy enough to brush off. She was out before too long, drying off and reapplying a bandage to the cut before dressing. Tenth was already ready by the time she got out and he was driving her down to the diner. He said nothing on the subject of the night prior, which Michelle was all too certain was difficult, but he had to have known if she didn't say anything herself then pressing her about it wouldn't make a difference. And for that, Michelle was thankful.

They shared a chaste kiss before she was exiting the car and making her way into the diner. It seemed normal this time as opposed to yesterday. Power was on, there was a comfortable buzz about the atmosphere; she made her way to the register to clock in when she heard it.

There was a very clear sound of some arguing going on in the back, a deep voice grumbling before a higher voice protested. Michelle could feel her heart jump at the verbal altercation and she immediately went to see what was happening.

" _You can't just-!_ "

"Oh but I _can_ ," Ramsay was sharply cutting off a very distressed looking Hailey, the girl that was all botox smiles and blonde hair and peppy happiness. It seemed very wrong that there were tears and redness clouding her eyes. "I'm sorry but rules are rules and they're rules for a **reason**. You're no longer an employee here. _Effective immediately._ "

Michelle watched on, unsure just what caused this to even break out. Hailey turned to see Michelle, a look of plea upon her features before she was turning back to Ramsay, her voice tight and upset.

"But it was a mistake-"

"And you _won't_ make it again," Ramsay looked tense, stern, his jaw clenching as he watched the other woman intently. "Now get your things. I **_won't_ ** ask again."

It almost frightened Michelle to see Ramsay like this. Every time she saw him he was wearing that smile, always pleasant. To see him with anything other than that grin just felt- _wrong._ And Michelle felt a shiver run through her body.

Hailey seemed to get the idea completely and fully, knowing that arguing it further probably wouldn't help her case. _Whatever_ her case had been. How could making a single mistake in this place end up in being fired with such harsh prejudice? Michelle was almost too scared to find out.

Not another word was exchanged before Hailey was moving over to the locker to gather her things. The air felt awkward as Michelle met Ramsay's gaze, his blue eyes lessening in their slight intensity. She looked away, not wanting to remain locked with his attention for longer than necessary. It felt as though years had passed before Hailey got all of her things and was brushing past Michelle, a single tear finally escaping before she was out of view.

Michelle swallowed hard. Would it be wrong to ask what had just happened?

" _Sorry_ you had to see that, Michelle," Ramsay finally spoke, breaking the awkward silence and yet awkward still it remained. She looked back to him, an expression of something cross between relief and embarrassment prevalent on his features. "Negan and I have told her repeatedly not to go near the freezer, as it's still being worked on, and she insisted. It's not safe in or near there right now."

Michelle's brows furrowed, "It's still being worked on? I thought they finished up yesterday?"

He gave her a small smile, "Unfortunately not. Don't remind Negan. He wanted it done yesterday but the power outage really set them back a bit. It's nothing to worry about but definitely stay away from it until they're done, alright?"

"Why was she near the freezer anyway?" Michelle asked, her curiosity getting the better of her despite her senses screaming not to pursue it.

It looked as though Ramsay didn't like that question for a split moment before slight annoyance was clouding his features and tone, "She decided it'd be the perfect place to mess around on her phone. Getting paid for standing around on her phone, she thought it was a good idea. Can't say we're _that_ kind of establishment that tolerates that kind of behavior."

It was almost.. Sad, in a way. Ever since the first day Michelle had walked in here, there Hailey was. Taking her and Tenth's orders, memorizing both their faces and regular orders. And just as they'd started to work together, she was fired on the spot for one mistake. Or had her mistakes been piling up for a while? Michelle had to think that was the only logical conclusion on that one. And certainly it couldn't be her place to ask further. So she just gave Ramsay a nod.

" _Anyway!_ " Ramsay began as he clapped his hands together, that wide smile of his returning. "Don't think too much on it. Go ahead and put your things away, we've got customers waiting, I'm sure."

Customers waiting. She was sure too.

* * *

Surprisingly, the day was somewhat _slow._ Beyond the firing of Hailey, it was uneventful as well. Which was odd, how different and yet how similar these past couple days had been. And with Hailey being gone now, perhaps it was good that today was slow. They were short a waitress and yet it worked out.

With it being at a snail's pace, Michelle did a lot of standing around behind the counter. Which wasn't what she was really expecting. Here she'd hoped to have been busy most of the day to keep her thoughts from wandering. At the very least, with the hum about the restaurant being quieter than usual, she could hear the music playing about the diner much more clearly. Enough so that she recognized one song playing more than all the others.

Some song from what sounded like the 70's.

 _'Struggling man has got to move_

 _Struggling man, no time to lose_

 _I'm a struggling man_

 _And I've got to move on'_

Michelle couldn't lie; this song was both growing on her **_and_** getting on her nerves. Why was it playing so much?

"Been a really slow day, huh?"

Michelle was dropped back into reality and out of the droning of that same damn song by the peppy voice of Kate. She was leaning on the other side of the counter, looking almost as bored as Michelle _felt._ They were coming up on closing time, just after the dinner rush- well it was more of a _crawl_ than a rush- and a new customer hadn't come in for nearly an hour.

Michelle was sighing as she pressed her chin into her palm as it rested against the ceramic counter, "Is it _always_ this slow on Wednesdays?"

Kate was smiling slightly, shrugging, "Sometimes. Somethin' about the diner down the street having a special on Wednesday nights."

Competition, huh? Michelle hummed and idly thought about whether Negan knew. Well of _course_ he had to know, didn't he? Negan seemed like a competitive man just from the way he spoke and held himself so she had to wonder why Lucille's didn't have anything to compete on the same night. A tidbit of information to maybe bring up if things ever got quiet between them.

Silence trickled between them before Kate was breaking it in a quiet and concerned tone, " _You heard about Hailey, right?_ "

Michelle bit her lip. Oh no. Workplace gossip. This was _not_ her favorite part.

"I was there," Michelle replied a bit curtly, uncertain whether that was the best thing to bring up.

Kate gasped a bit, so genuine that it _almost_ made Michelle laugh a bit, "No way, _really?!_ What happened? Theon knows like- **everything** but he won't tell me anything. Other than she was fired, duh."

She was such a… valley girl. So much that it hurt a little bit. And wait, _who_ was Theon again? Oh yeah. He was the resident host of the diner. Tall, a bit geeky, probably just fresh out of high school. Michelle didn't exactly go out of her way to say hi to him or anything. He seemed kinda awkward, if she was being honest.

Michelle really didn't want to go into this. It wasn't really her business to begin with. It didn't feel right going into a story that she probably had no right to tell. If anything, it was pretty embarrassing to Hailey. And Michelle had always thought Hailey was really quite nice. Definitely _not_ deserving of some secondhand gossip between her former co-workers.

As if her prayers were answered (in a sense), a quite loud and obtrusive whistling following along with that all too familiar song was alerting both of the girls to their boss' presence. Negan was sauntering up to them, a wide grin was pulling at his lips as the song finally came to an end.

"Hi girls," Negan greeted them quite pleasantly. "Gettin' close to closing time. Kate, darlin', you know what you should be doing."

Kate was suddenly smiling and nodding, seeming to discard their previous subject with ease, "Of course, Negan. I'll like, get right on it."

" _Atta_ girl," he was beaming as she walked off, his dark eyes returning to Michelle. "First night closing for Michelle! You must be oh _so_ excited, huh? Wish I had a camera to mark this momentous occasion. It's kinda like your first day at school or your first time to prom. So moving."

She was huffing a laugh, her red lips spreading in a smile as she nodded, "I guess so. Did, uh… Did you know that one song plays a lot? Is it a glitch in the playlist or something?"

Negan's brows were furrowing as if he were offended for a split moment before he was chuckling, amused, "Oh I know you did **_not_** just call my _favorite_ song a glitch, young lady."

 _Oops._ Michelle was bringing a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear as her eyes averted somewhat, "Sorry, I didn't realize- I just thought-"

"I'm just bustin' your balls right there!" Negan laughed again, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Yeah, that song plays a lot but call it a staple of the atmosphere. It's the new _What's New Pussycat_."

Her eyebrows were tugging together in slight confusion, "What..?"

"John Mulaney? What's New Pussycat? _It's Not Unusual?_ **_No?_** "

Negan looked at her like she was missing out on some vital information and really, maybe she was. But she just wasn't catching on, her expression giving that away quite vividly.

Negan sighed, waving his hand as if he were swatting a fly, " _Never mind_ , don't hurt yourself tryin' to figure it out, c'mon. Ramsay's gonna help you close."

 _Ramsay_ was going to help her close? Great. Was it fair that Michelle really didn't want that? Maybe not. And maybe it was a little mean in some way. But was it so unfounded? She just didn't get the right vibes from him. And if this morning was anything to go by, she felt pretty right in those feelings.

Not that she could ever really give voice to them. She had to maintain professionalism and _this_ was part of it. So she just smiled and nodded and followed Negan towards the back.

"Ramsay!" Negan called out. They were just past the employee lockers, to a room that Michelle hadn't been to until now. It looked like where they kept all their trash for taking out. Large bags were laid out, some tied and some untied. There were smaller bags as well but they were all black and looked to be full.

Another smaller room branched out and this was the room that Ramsay seemed to be in, his head popping out the doorway.

"Got one Michelle Morris for ya," Negan teased in a way that made Michelle feel just a little uncomfortable. Professionalism, she had to remind herself. And it was just the way Negan spoke. Nothing to get worked up over.

Ramsay was soon smiling as he was drying his hands off on a dishtowel. Maybe he'd been washing dishes.

"Perfect," he nodded. "Good timing. We've got a lot to do back here."

Michelle could feel herself minutely flinching as Negan leaned a bit closer to her, his voice lowering somewhat, "I'll leave you two kids to it. I got _faith_ in ya."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Michelle and Ramsay to each other's company. Michelle was clearing her throat to keep the silence from getting awkward.

"What do you need me to do?"

Ramsay was pointing out all the bags, "I need you to bring _all_ these out to the dumpster out back. Be sure the lid to the dumpster is closed properly; the rats can make a real mess of things if it's left open."

Michelle could feel her expression turning into a small grimace before she was nodding, reminding herself of, _yet again_ , professionalism. She took a deep breath and grabbed a few of the smaller bags first. She'd work up to the bigger ones.

Being outside for the first time since earlier that day brought a heavy handful of surprises. For one, it had grown much, _much_ colder and it was sprinkling quite the cold rain. Definitely not pleasant in the least bit but she had to tough through it. She brought bag after bag out to the dumpster, the smell no more enjoyable than the cold.

She was on her second to last big bag of trash when she heard it.

A muffled but just _barely_ audible scream. It was almost impossible to pinpoint where it was coming from and Michelle was certain she would've missed it if she had closed the dumpster door any later. Nothing but the dwindling bustle of the Chicago streets greeted her ears afterwards. She remained still, as though she was scared moving would make her miss any similar noises.

Had she just imagined it? Had it been the dumpster creaking as she closed it? She didn't know now. Her heart was still pounding, slowly coming down from her throat as she swallowed hard. Finally, she began to look around, trying to see if there was anyone nearby. And she was suddenly very aware of how dark it was back here. There was only a lone streetlamp in the back, buzzing in a low electrical hum and casting a yellowish glare upon the wet and dirty pavement.

"Last one's here," Ramsay was speaking as he stepped out of the diner, carrying the last big trashbag.

Michelle felt herself jump at the sudden intrusion, now feeling ten times more on edge. Ramsay was approaching, a small smile on his face from what she could make out in the darkness.

"Just finished up the dishes, thought I'd give you a hand," he went on as if nothing odd had happened. As though there hadn't just been a barely audible scream. Maybe he hadn't heard it. Maybe Michelle hadn't heard it either. _Maybe it was nothing._

Ramsay had come to a stop at the dumpster, lifting the lid and placing the trash within before turning back to her, his tone curious, "Everything alright, Michelle?"

Something screamed at her to pretend nothing had happened. And so she did, "Yeah, I just- thought I saw a cat. _Sorry._ "

Ramsay was smiling yet again, a small laugh filling the air, "Ah, you like cats? Not sure I'd want to pet any around here, though. They tend to be feral."

She was swallowing yet again, her throat feeling drier than ever. She just nodded and breathed a somewhat nervous laugh, " _Yeah_ , you're probably right."

"Come on then, we've still got things to do up front," Ramsay encouraged as he went to the door, opening it for her with a smile. _Always the smile._ "Sooner we get it done, sooner we can go home."

"Right," Michelle was nodding, hesitating just a moment more before heading back within.

Nothing else of note happened after that. She swept the floors, replaced the salt and pepper shakers, replaced napkin holders, cleaned windows, and, _finally,_ called Tenth to come pick her up. It was nearing midnight and she felt cold down to her core.

 _Was she going mad?_ She couldn't decide. Not after what she was so certain she heard. _A scream_ , nothing like you'd hear in movies or on the TV. A _real_ scream. But it was so muffled and sounding so far away yet so close, it kept evading her whenever she tried to think on it. And Ramsay seemed as though he heard nothing. And even Negan, the couple times more she saw him after the fact, _didn't_ remark upon it. Neither did Kate.

Michelle slid on her jacket before she was closing her locker, spinning the lock as she did so. The lights were already dim by the time she was at the door, Ramsay behind the counter assuring her that she could leave.

"Good work today, Michelle," Ramsay was beaming at her, pleasant as ever. "Enjoy your day off tomorrow!"

As a professional, she smiled, nodded, waved and said her goodbyes. And waiting just outside was Tenth in his blue Audi, the car no doubt warm and inviting and safe. Suddenly she was all too grateful that she agreed to let Tenth give her a ride to and from work.

The moment she was in, Tenth gave her a comforting smile as he asked, "How was work?"

Michelle buckled herself in as Tenth began to pull out, her mind still a buzz, like white noise and without clarity. She took a few moments before giving him a small smile, forced and uncertain, but in the dark it looked natural and confident.

 _'I'm a struggling man_

 _And I've got to move on'_

"Good."


	7. Part 7

Could Michelle officially say she was going crazy? Because she sure as hell felt like she was. Her life had been a constant and never ending nightmare ever since Dawn had fell off the face of the earth. Even more so to the fact that everything went back to being incredibly normal after those string of days where something weird and different and scary had been happening.

The passing of time was even more evident as shown by the healed wound on her leg from that stupid trip to the factory. Nearly _three weeks_ had passed since and everything was… fine. Normal. _Silent._ It had turned into radio silence yet again from the police on the investigation of Dawn's disappearance. Probably because of Sherry Bewer's disappearance. Not to mention whatever else that was never publicly shared with the news outlets. Chicago was a busy place filled with crimes needing tended to. So it made sense they couldn't focus a hundred percent on the missing persons cases, as much as Michelle wished otherwise. Especially when their trails were so cold.

Not that it made Michelle feel any better. She was still mulling over everything that had happened to her. The factory, the tow truck, the scream… It all felt like a whirlwind in her mind that she couldn't grasp onto. Not even after weeks had passed.

You'd think with things being so _mind numbingly normal_ , she'd get everything in place in her thoughts. But you'd be wrong to think that. Tenth had pressed her a few times about what had happened but just like the scabbing and scarring of the wound to her leg, she remained sealed shut about it. Eventually, Tenth stopped asking. But he never stopped having that look of worry on his face.

"I feel like we never talk anymore," Tenth muttered, finally budging to answer Michelle's _'are you okay'_ question.

That night, a night in which Michelle had the day off from work, they decided to finally finish Stranger Things and have pizza together. And when Stranger Things and pizza was done, Michelle couldn't help but feel like something was wrong with Tenth. And now she was regretting even asking.

Michelle felt her brows furrowing, "What do you mean? We talk every day."

He sighed, obviously a bit frustrated as he turned to face her on the couch, " _No_ , Michelle, I mean you don't tell me what's on your mind anymore. It's always _'how are you?' 'I'm good, you?' 'I'm good' 'How was work?' 'Good' 'You?' 'Good'_ , and that's it."

"I'm sorry," Michelle muttered, now feeling a bit wounded and like she was mostly to blame in this. But she still tried to find an excuse. "It's just- with Dawn still gone and this new job and…"

Michelle was trailing off, leaving a look of dissatisfaction on his features. He took a deep breath before looking away and mulling over her words as if questioning whether to bring it up or not.

"I get it," he began quietly, looking back to her with softer eyes. Tenth reached forward, wrapping a hand around her own to which she returned the hold gently. "I _know_ you're going through a lot. But you're always acting like you've got to go through it alone. You don't have to."

She was frowning slightly, now feeling even worse. She didn't realize that keeping everything bottled like she had been would have this kind of effect on Tenth. She didn't talk about anything much. He was right. And she was starting to fully realize that.

"I'm sorry," she apologized yet again, "but things have been weird lately. _Really_ weird. Sometimes I think I'm going mad."

"Because you don't let me in," Tenth added, concern filling his tone more than accusation. A pause filled the air as he was bringing her hand up to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss.

Michelle began to open her mouth to respond when there was a very distinct and strong knock at the door of her apartment. The couple froze, the hour late enough that it brought to question: just _who_ would be showing up at her place now? They both shared a look of confusion before Michelle was pulling away from the couch to look through the peephole.

"Chicago police, open up!"

Michelle's heart jumped several beats before she was opening the door. Could this have been the day that they told her where Dawn was? Could they have found her? Was she with them right now? She couldn't get the door open quick enough.

"Michelle Morris?" one of the men spoke, his head bald and his demeanor looking quite intimidating.

Michelle swallowed as she looked behind the two men in uniform. There was no Dawn in sight. No one but these two men of the law. But she couldn't let herself be deterred just yet. She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling Tenth's presence approaching behind her.

"We need you to come down to the station for some questioning."

Yet again, Michelle's heart jumped and this time, it _wasn't_ good. Not good at all. She quickly went over her recent actions, trying to figure out just _what_ this might have been about. Michelle was never one to break the law, never one to even skit on the outside of it. Up until very recently when she went to the factory-

 _Oh._

"What's going on? Why does she need to come to the station?" Tenth began sternly, his voice and body language incredibly protective as he stepped closer.

The bald man brought up his hand to stop Tenth from continuing, "Sir, this is none of your concern-"

"Of **_course_** it is, she's my girlfriend!" he bit back, perhaps a little sharper than he should've.

Michelle looked down for a moment before she was replying, her voice shaking a bit, "Look, I'll go. Can he come with me?"

The other man, he looked a fair bit kinder than the other, was shaking his head, "He'll have to drive down to the station himself. You'll have to come with us on your own."

So _that_ was how it'd have to go. Michelle turned to Tenth, placing her hands on his chest to gather his attention and calm him down, "It'll be okay, alright? I'm sure it has to do with Dawn."

"But why are they taking you for questioning, what-"

Michelle's brows tugged together as she brought her hand to rest on his cheek, cutting him off as she did so, "I'll tell you later. _For sure_ this time. I promise. Just… Meet me there, okay?"

It was hard to blame him for having a conflict of emotions raging on inside his mind right then. Maybe if she'd told him everything sooner, if she had just been upfront, his thoughts might not have been such a battlefield. But he trusted her, nodding and leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

* * *

Michelle had never been inside a police car. It was so different from a regular car and yet so similar. It felt wrong and bad and if Michelle had _ever_ thought of committing any kind of offenses in the future, she certainly wasn't going to now. Forget jail, **this** was where she drew the line.

At the very least, they hadn't arrested her. Should she have been though? Maybe it was a good sign that she wasn't getting properly arrested. She could do without the handcuffs. She already felt arrested enough with her own thoughts, her stomach turning in restless bouts of anxiety and terror. She knew this had to be about the factory. There was no way in hell it wasn't going to be.

As she was lead inside, they settled her into what she could only guess at was an interrogation room. Now she felt completely guilty when she knew she didn't really do anything wrong. Beyond trespassing into an area under criminal investigation.

 _Shit._

The minutes passed by, each tick of the proverbial clock driving her insane. It was excruciating and painful, sitting in such a white room on such an uncomfortable chair in one of the most uncomfortable situations.

She was certain half an hour had passed before someone she recognized was stepping into the room. It was Rick, looking tired and like he was unsettled by seeing her in that metal seat. Not that she blamed him; she was just as disappointed that she was here too.

Rick slid a manila folder onto the table before he was settling down across from her. She shifted in her seat as he opened it.

"Michelle," he began after a deep breath, sifting through the papers there before he finally looked up at her. "Not exactly how I wanna be seein' you."

Michelle pursed her lips, her voice quiet, "Yeah, _me neither._ "

The quiet of the room was once again settling uncomfortably around them as Rick brought out a couple of photos. He laid the first one before her and her heart stopped for what felt like the millionth time that night. It was a picture of the inside of the factory, the window she'd gotten into within view. Then he laid out another photo, a photo of the gravel on the ground. There was something very similar with each one. In each one sat tiny and just barely noticeable drops of blood.

"These look _familiar_ to you?" Rick asked, his tone seeming to go into officer mode.

Michelle pressed her hands between her knees, pressing them to try and keep them from shaking. She had to be strong, make sure he didn't take this as some kind of guilt on the part of Dawn's disappearance. Or, _worse,_ Sherry Bewer's.

"I…" she paused, trying to keep her voice even as she looked up to Rick. "Yeah. They do."

Rick nodded, bringing out yet another paper that had a bunch of information that Michelle just couldn't entirely comprehend at that moment in time. She looked it over but still couldn't make complete sense of it, her brain starting to go into panic mode despite her attempts to calm herself.

"We ran a scan on the blood we found here and here," Rick explained calmly as he referred to the pictures again, tone detached. At least he didn't sound accusatory. "It came back with a match for _your_ DNA. The DNA samples we took at the start of this thing. Now do you wanna explain just _what_ your blood was doin' there?"

Just be honest. She had to just be honest and get it out. And that probably included what she'd seen afterwards too. Maybe what she saw after would be her ticket to innocence. She had to hope.

Her breath was shaking as she took a deep one before meeting his eyes, drawing whatever strength she could to recall that night, "It was a few weeks ago, the same day you told me about the place. I had just gotten off of work. And my boyfriend, Tenth, he knew about the factory. He's into that kind of history stuff and knew how it was- just a big important factory or something so I got curious and looked into it. I found the address and I wanted…"

Michelle's words were beginning to jumble together so she stopped herself, trying to regain her composure. Her fingers were beginning to ache between her knees but she ignored it.

"I needed to see what this place was really like," she looked down. "I wanted to see if I could find _why_ Dawn was there. I thought I could find something. And I _did,_ but…"

Her silence trailed on, making the room even more uncomfortable. The silence was deafening. So Rick was encouraging her to continue.

"But?"

"I got in there through that window. I didn't find anything inside. But when I was getting back out, about to leave, a truck drove up."

Rick's brows were knitting together in confusion as she looked up, " _A truck?_ "

Michelle nodded, "A tow truck. I wasn't careful getting out of the window again so I cut my leg on the glass. My right thigh. That's why the blood was there. I hid behind one of the semis that were there and there was a tow truck… It was towing a white truck. They just kind of drove up, stopped for a minute, then drove away the way they came in. And then I got out of there."

Rick seemed to be digesting all the information, slowly but surely. She could see it running through his sheriff's mind and she could only hope and wonder if it was good enough for him. She desperately wanted to go home. She wanted Tenth to spend the night with her. She wanted to lay in his arms and tell him everything that had been happening to her and fall asleep there and just be safe.

"Why didn't you come to us with this information sooner?" he asked, a little more life to his voice this time.

Michelle shook her head, "I don't know, I was scared, I… _I'm sorry_ , I know I should have. But I shouldn't have been there in the first place, I know. And I think that's why…"

Rick was sighing, bringing a hand up to rub at the growing stubble on his face. His body was leaning back in his chair as he shrugged a bit, a mirthless chuckle coming out of his mouth, "That information _really_ would've helped us sooner, y'know."

Had the information he'd been talking about been the tow truck? Michelle had to know now.

"Sherry Bewer," Michelle began, sounding a bit more confident now that everything was in the open. If she was going to get charged with something, then so be it. "Did she drive a white truck? Was _that_ her truck?"

Rick was beginning to gather up the photos and papers from the folder, sticking them back within as he spoke, voice detached, "I can't say. M'not at liberty to discuss other cases with you. I'm sorry."

Now she could feel herself deflating slightly. There was something in the way he answered that told her that maybe, _just maybe_ , she was right. That maybe Dawn's car had been towed there after she was taken. Taken? But by who? And why? Why would someone do this and so deliberately?

"Am I in trouble?"

It sounded like such a juvenile thing to say, didn't it? Michelle couldn't help but feel like she was a kindergartner about to go into timeout in the corner. Like she was guilty and they ought to just slap the cuffs on her right then and there. Send her packing off to jail. But Rick just shook his head.

"There's not much we can do to detain you, not with concrete proof that you were there intentionally temperin' with evidence," he went on, so matter-of-factly. He looked back up to her as he pushed the folder to the side. "We've been thoroughly investigatin' the scene and all we've come up with beyond Dawn's car was your blood. As a cop, you're not 'sposed to give people that show up with DNA at a crime scene the benefit of the doubt. But I'd be lyin' if I said I was convinced you had somethin' to do with Dawn's disappearance."

That was a relief at the very least. Rick wasn't of the notion that Michelle was guilty here. Other than going into a place she shouldn't have been, of course. She allowed a small smile, albeit tired, to rest on her lips.

"Thank you…" she muttered, shifting a bit.

Rick was soon standing, pushing his chair in as he did so, "Lemme go see what we're gonna do here. Sit tight."

And sit tight was all she could do.

Hours had passed. It felt like _years_ to Michelle. Finally, she was released after giving a more official on tape statement to the police why she had been there and when, going into as much detail as she could for the record. And then she was released, a barely awake Tenth waiting before the front desk in one of the many uncomfortable-looking chairs.

She approached him quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking gently. He stirred quite quickly, breathing in deeply before he looked up to see her.

Tenth shot up quickly, eyes wide as he regarded her with curiosity and concern, " _Michelle?!_ Are you okay? What happened?!"

Michelle smiled; tired and sad and guilty. She should've told him everything from the start.

"Let's go home, okay?" Michelle asked quietly, lacing her fingers into his. "My place, yours, _doesn't matter._ I just want to go."

"Michelle…" Tenth trailed off, sounding disappointed and tired. "You promised you'd explain."

"I will," she nodded. "I swear. Just… _not_ here. Please not here. I'm sick of this place. Please."

Tenth looked as though he wanted to pursue it further. And God, she could not blame him. Here she was putting it off yet again and he probably thought she was just going to blow him off completely. But she wouldn't. She'd make sure she wouldn't. She just didn't want to be here anymore. And he seemed to grasp that, nodding solemnly.

"Okay.." he tried to smile but it just didn't work. "Let's go."


	8. Part 8

Michelle's story had become almost scripted at this point. After giving the information once to Rick then another time to a recorder for police records, she felt like she was in a play, giving her lines over and over. At this point it almost made her feel like it really _was_ scripted. Like it was just one big overplayed scene in a play or a movie. It'd be easier to accept it all if it were. Hell, Michelle was sure she'd like it much better that way.

Tenth absorbed everything patiently and with steady breath as she curled into him in the darkness and warmth of her bed. She told him everything about that day at the factory. How she followed up on the information Tenth gave her, how she was disappointed the police had taken Dawn's car, how bad the place smelled, how she cut herself, how she saw the tow truck, and just how scared she'd been. She hadn't realized it until looking back in hindsight that it was a terrifying experience and Michelle liked to think she was a pretty **strong** person.

The silence that followed her story almost made her wish she _hadn't_ asked to tell him everything in bed. At the time, she wasn't sure she could handle what would possibly be disappointment or anger or concern on his face. But now she wanted it all. She wanted all the emotions he couldn't speak and everything in between. But it was too late for that.

"Are you still awake..?" she asked tentatively, almost afraid that he really _had_ fallen asleep during the whole spiel.

Michelle could feel his chest rise as he took a deep breath, his arms wrapping around her just that much tighter, "Yeah. I am. I'm just… trying to absorb it all. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

She was afraid of that. Michelle could feel her lips pressing together tightly as she shut her eyes, almost as though the action could make everything disappear. Yet it didn't and she was still here in the present where things were wrong and bad and _terrible._

"I don't know," Michelle admitted truthfully, uncertainty clouding her words. "Everything's been so weird and crazy lately. I wasn't even sure where to _begin._ And I was worried you'd be really upset at me..."

Tenth gave a soft sigh, nothing overly tedious or annoyed, but just a gentle sigh. She could feel the sensation of his fingertips trailing up her leg, causing her to shiver as his fingers ghosted along where the cut had been. It was healed up, scarred, and he lingered on the area of skin that had risen in a silvery bump of a scar.

"I'm more upset about the fact that you didn't tell me what happened rather than what you did," he muttered, thumb brushing over the damaged skin soothingly. It made her relax somewhat. "We're supposed to be a _team_ here, Michelle. Like I've said, you don't have to do everything alone."

Michelle's eyes felt heavy, the stress of the night pulling on her like giant weights. She had work tomorrow, she just remembered. And there was _no way_ in hell she was going to let this stop her from going in tomorrow. No one at Lucille's had to know what happened. They wouldn't.

" _I know_ ," she mumbled, pressing her forehead to his chest. "And I'm sorry…"

"S'okay," Tenth whispered, kissing the top of her head. "Get some sleep. We'll worry about it later."

Michelle was just barely getting a nod out before she allowed the darkness of exhaustion to overtake her mind and body.

* * *

Last night felt like it happened in a faraway land. Chicago at night was such a different place as opposed to the day time, making it easier to separate herself from those events. And maybe that was a good thing. A really, _really_ good thing. Because Michelle felt as though she could head to work and pretend nothing was wrong. Maybe talking about what she'd kept bottled for _weeks_ had helped. Maybe. _Just maybe._

Negan wanted her closing again today. And quite vividly, she was recalling the _first_ time she had closed. Nothing like it had happened on the last few times she had closed, but it was hard to shake that memory. Even more so for the fact that it wasn't a concrete memory. Sometimes she doubted herself but others she was so certain, it made her on edge any time Negan asked her to close.

Maybe she should have told Tenth about it. Then again, maybe she _shouldn't_ have. It was a conflicting thing; how crazy would she look if she just brought it up as _'oh yeah by the way, I heard a scream at work a while back, weird huh'_? Although she was certain Tenth wouldn't dismiss her right away, there was nothing concrete to back it up either.

Luckily today _hadn't_ been slow. Michelle was busy nearly nonstop, taking orders, refilling drinks, delivering food, and wearing a smile plastered on her face for so long she was sure her cheeks were going to fall off. They said that smiling had an effect on the brain that released some kind of chemicals to make you happier. Michelle wasn't entirely sure she could accept that because she still felt pretty bad any time she wasn't within the eyesight of a customer.

A sigh escaped her lips, tired and stressed, as she leaned against the employee lockers on her break. It was just a short break, about fifteen minutes. She could've taken more if she wanted to, though more time working meant more tips. But it was nice to not experience the botox effect on her face for a small window of time.

That was when she received a call from Rick. She felt her pocket vibrating quite intensely, realizing a second later that she was receiving a call. It wasn't exactly in the norm for her to get calls during the workday- Tenth was usually quite busy at work himself to phone in a call during the day- so already it was a surprise that caught her off guard. She quickly answered it the moment she recognized the number.

"Hello?" she asked quite hurriedly, tone expectant and hopeful. Please let it be news about Dawn and not a call for her to come back for more questioning. Please, oh please.

"Michelle?" Rick's voice was on the other end, his voice sounding southern as ever. "I've got somethin' that might interest you."

Suddenly, Michelle was pushing herself away from the lockers, her expression turning much more intense along with her voice, "What? Did you find something? About Dawn?"

Rick gave a small and barely audible sigh, "No, not exactly. It's about Dawn's car. We're releasin' it and we figured you'd want to come and see it. Maybe pick it up, if you'd like."

There was a conflict of emotions raging inside Michelle's mind at those words. They were releasing her car and Rick had no new information. Michelle had hoped that maybe…

It didn't matter. Michelle responded, sounding deflated, "You didn't find anything new?"

"'Fraid not. We did a thorough sweep of the vehicle and there wasn't any sufficient evidence."

Was it too much to hope that they would've found something, anything? Michelle was sounding desperate now, "What about the milk? Were you able to get any clues from that? Anything at all?"

"No, not really," Rick responded flatly. "I wish I had more I could give you, I _really_ do. But this is all we've got at the moment."

Michelle could feel her lips curling into a frown of disappointment. She'd been expecting a little _too_ much, hadn't she? How could there be any way at all that a rotten jug of milk could help find Dawn? It was the factory all over again. Michelle took a quiet breath as she considered this.

"I'll get back to you on it," Michelle settled, unsure whether going to see Dawn's car would make her feel better or not. Maybe she would talk it through with Tenth. "Thanks for calling, though."

"Sure thing," he affirmed. "You've got my number if you need to give me a call."

"Right. Thank you."

The conversation seemed over enough so Michelle brought her phone away from her ear, pressing the red phone button on the screen as she stared at her home screen. It quickly faded to black, leaving her to her thoughts once more. She had the choice to go and get Dawn's car. Had it been a few weeks back when she went to the factory, she'd have jumped at the opportunity to see that car again. There were so many memories tied to it. And maybe that was what would make it hard to see again.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Michelle would have no doubt jumped if her brain hadn't been so absorbed in her thoughts, the familiar voice of Negan suddenly beside her. Her brows raised somewhat as she turned to look his way. He looked curious, maybe a hint of concern in there somewhere.

How much had he heard?

"Something like that," Michelle muttered, trying to force the thoughts away. She urged a smile onto her face, although it probably looked tired and fake, "Did you need something, Negan?"

Both of Negan's hands were sliding into the pockets of his jeans, his posture tilting back somewhat, "Just checkin' in. Your break's almost up. Important call there?"

It just then occurred to Michelle that no one here knew about Dawn. More than likely they had seen the news coverage and that was that. Just another report on TV, something to look at with distant emotions, remark how terrible it was, and then just move on. That's just how most people coped with the terrible things happening around them. And Michelle wished _so_ very much she could've been one of them here.

Michelle huffed a mirthless and breathy laugh as she brought up her phone somewhat, "Sorta… Just- have you ever had someone in your life- disappear?"

Negan's brows furrowed, eyes squinting for just a moment before he was nodding, "Think we've all been there at one time or another. Or we all _will_ at some point. Just part of life's big ol' middle finger it loves to shove right up all our asses. You're in good company there, darlin'."

This felt… odd. Michelle had never exactly been one to go dumping this kind of talk on anyone but maybe Tenth and Dawn. _Especially_ not her own boss. But Negan had an interesting sort of aura about him. She couldn't quite figure it out but it wasn't exactly- _bad._ Maybe she was just tired of holding these things in and Negan just happened to be the closest person.

"I guess so," Michelle breathed solemnly, pausing a moment before yet again smiling, trying _much_ harder to be more genuine this time. "Anyway, it's nothing. Just some things I gotta take care of at some point. I'll get back to work."

Negan was chuckling slightly, "Nothin' like the crushing weight of capitalism to get you back in gear, huh?"

Her laugh was just barely genuine, "Yeah…"

* * *

Michelle had almost forgotten, but Tenth insisted on driving her to and from work today. After last night, she supposed he thought that she needed to be coddled or something. Like she couldn't handle driving. Alright, that wasn't fair, he was just worried. Yet she couldn't help but feel like maybe he was being a little overbearing. She'd have to remind him, quite sternly, that she was definitely going to drive herself tomorrow.

He was on his way though, apparently. And in truth, she felt as though he couldn't get here quick enough. It was just her and Ramsay left in the diner now. Negan had, once again, left the closing up to them. It just occurred to her that she never really saw Negan leave before they closed. That was odd. But not odd enough for her to ponder on very intently at the moment.

She was in the process of refilling some of the last napkin dispensers when Ramsay's voice filled the diner from behind the counter.

"You've heard about those disappearances, right?"

Michelle froze involuntarily; just what kind of conversation starter was that? She swallowed a bit roughly, now knowing that the possibility of her connection to Dawn would be brought to light. Then again, it wasn't like it was a well kept secret. Not when Dawn had accompanied both her and Tenth to this diner pretty often before she was just gone.

"What about them?" Michelle asked in a guarded tone, resuming her task and keeping her eyes down.

Ramsay's voice held a solemn sort of vibe to it, "It's awful is all. And, I don't mean to pry, but you knew Dawn, didn't you?"

Oh he didn't mean to pry? Then why the hell was he even asking to begin with? An odd sort of frustration and rage began to build within her. But it felt irrational so she pressed it down, her fingers moving about a bit more roughly.

"Yeah," she said curtly. And she said nothing more. Why couldn't she just leave right now?

Ramsay allowed the silence to trickle into the diner. Not even that stupid song was playing. _Nothing_ was playing and **_nothing_** was happening. Michelle could feel that frustration still teeming at the edges of her mind.

"I'm _so_ sorry," Ramsay said quietly and remorsefully, seeming as though he was understanding his mistake. "I can't imagine what you're going through."

 _Just stop._ She wanted to tell him to just _**stop.**_ But she didn't. Instead, she remained silent, moving onto the next table and replacing the napkins there. Just two more tables. Two more tables and she could get out of here. Why did it make her so angry? Why did it make her want to _cry?_

Michelle hadn't dared to look up at him ever since he first spoke and she maybe regretted that slightly because now he was silent, just the sound of the rag in his hand minutely dragging across the counter. She _desperately_ wanted to gauge his expression; she could feel his ice blue eyes on her and she didn't like it. One more table. _One last table._

"Did you know her well?"

" _Please_ , Ramsay, _I don't-_ " Michelle started suddenly, looking up at him finally. Her voice was swimming with barely concealed frustration. "I _don't_ want to talk about it. I **really** appreciate the concern but please, don't."

 _Oops._ Maybe that _hadn't_ been the best way to say that and to say it so harshly. _Especially_ to her own boss. He looked momentarily surprised, hurt, but then his expression turned something cross between understanding and- _something else_ she just couldn't put. But it didn't look or feel right.

" _Of course_ , I'm sorry," he obliged, nodding before he was momentarily pursing his lips. "I just want you to know I'm here for you. So is Negan and everyone else here at this diner. We're like family here."

Michelle was swallowing dryly as she nodded, quickly returning to the last napkin dispenser. That could've gone better _and_ worse all at the same time. At least he seemed to drop it. But it just made the following minutes of silence all the more painful and awkward and _tense._

Luckily for Michelle, all she had to do was get her things from her locker and leave. So she grabbed her things, heading for the exit as she saw Tenth pull up, those headlights somewhat familiar and comforting. And just as she was pushing the door open, Ramsay was calling out from behind the counter.

"Have a good evening, Michelle."

She shivered and not just because of the cool air that met her as she exited the diner.


	9. Part 9

It was raining that day. And not just a sprinkle here and there, but _pouring._ And it was _cold._ Just the perfect kind of day to stay inside, curled up under some blankets and forget the world existed for a while. That _would've_ been the plan if Michelle could've made it that way. But unfortunately, she had work and the reality of that was harsh and unfair. Why was it so easy to take the carefree nature of childhood for granted?

"Are you gonna go get Dawn's car?"

How could she have forgotten? She'd discussed everything with Tenth after work; Rick's call and his offer to go pick up or, at the very least, _see_ Dawn's car. Maybe she hadn't forgotten. Maybe it just seemed a little surreal, enough so that it felt like a _dream._ Getting to see Dawn's car wouldn't be easy, she was sure. But she'd settled that she would try.

Michelle nodded, "You sure you don't mind taking me? I don't know if I'm actually going to take it home."

Tenth smiled as he grabbed his keys off the counter in Michelle's kitchen, "You know I don't mind. C'mon, don't want you to be late for work."

That was right, she had to do this pretty quick before her shift started. So there would be no wasting time, then. Maybe she should've done this on her next day off. But putting it off would only make it harder, no doubt.

So off they were to the station, the subject of bringing herself to work in her own car teeming at her lips. She was sure that Tenth would insist on driving her to work as well, but she knew that she had to be firm. Getting chauffeured around had the perk of saving on gas but it didn't have the perk of making her feel better. Because being driven around like this just reminded her of everything. Reminded her that _nothing_ was normal right now.

She didn't want or need that.

"Hey, so," Michelle began quietly as they pulled into the parking lot of the station. She reached over to undo her seatbelt as she watched him carefully. "I want to drive myself to work today."

His brows were furrowing somewhat, "Are you sure? I really don't mind-"

"I know," Michelle was sighing as she cut in, "but it'll be fine. I'll be fine."

Tenth wasn't convinced, she could see. But she tried not to think too much on it. He was soon nodding anyhow as he undid his own seatbelt, "Alright, if that's what you wanna do."

She was smiling, grateful he didn't pursue it, "Thank you."

The conversation came to a short end as they stepped out of the car, the silence pervading as they quickly made their way to the entrance. The rain didn't look to be letting up anytime soon, the clouds crowding the sky like an angry swarm of bees. Fitting for Michelle's trepidation as they told the clerk at the front desk what they were here for.

As they were expected, they were lead to the back, stuck in a waiting room where they were told the sheriff would be with them soon enough.

Michelle's fingers were fiddling with a damp part of her jacket as she looked over to Tenth, "You _really_ think this is going to help?"

"I really, _really_ do," he assured her with a smile; the kind of smile that made her feel like maybe he was right and it _would_ fix everything. That maybe this could put a lot of things to rest in her mind. But perhaps that was being a bit too hopeful. Too naive. _Too simple._

Not ten minutes later did Rick come by with umbrella in hand, giving them both a warm greeting, handshakes, and a cue to follow him. They traveled through the building, to parts Michelle had never been in before. Several double doors later, they were out in the back, the rain seeming to have only gotten worse since they'd arrived.

Rick motioned to the garage-style building just some ten feet or more away, "We've got Dawn's car in that garage. Here, take this."

Michelle took the umbrella as Rick handed it to her, opening it as they stepped outside. It was a good sized umbrella, but certainly not big enough for all of them. Rick decided to jog ahead, stopping just under an awning before one of the doors, pulling out a set of keys and sifting through them for the right one. By the time Tenth and Michelle caught up with him, he was opening the door and turning on a light to the side.

It was a relatively tidy garage, a few broken down cars and random parts laying about. There were several boxes lining the walls, a few shelves with clear tubs of miscellaneous bits and parts. The sound of the pounding rain was hollow within the room as more of the lights slowly flickered to life. And there, near the back, looking foreign and familiar all at once, was Dawn's car.

"There it is," Rick pointed it out, although it was a needless action. He looked over to Michelle as she continued to stare at the car.

Michelle didn't know how to feel. How _should_ she feel? There was warmth for seeing such a familiar sight again, but there was also a cold nipping feeling deep within her stomach as its owner was nowhere in sight. It felt wrong and right all in one fell swoop. She wanted to smile, she wanted to cry, she wanted to laugh, she wanted to scream. How could a car elicit such odd and conflicting feelings?

It took her a moment more to realize Rick was offering out a key to her, "Here."

Slowly, Michelle was taking the key. It definitely wasn't Dawn's original key; obviously they had a new one made. That made it feel all the more empty and disconnected in its own strange way. She took her time stepping up to the car, fingers gliding over the faded blue paint of the Volkswagen.

Everything else became drowned out as Michelle circled the car, almost like she was trying to confirm it really was Dawn's car. Maybe some part of her doubted that it was, in some nonsensical way, **not** Dawn's car. But _why?_ She didn't know.

Before long she was entering the car, the smell of lingering lilac from an old car freshener and the incredibly dull and faint scent of something rotten stinging her nose. The milk. She closed the door as she was in the driver's seat, pressing the key into the ignition. It stuttered a time or two before the engine purred beneath her.

Taking a deep breath, Michelle began looking about, still trying to get a grasp on what her emotions were going through. Maybe even trying to somehow get a glimpse into the last time Dawn sat here. There would be no use in trying to look for clues that the police may have missed. Rick said they found nothing more, so they found nothing more. She would just have to accept that.

Reaching over, Michelle opened the glovebox, the insurance papers still within and a few CDs, as Rick had said. She grabbed one of the CDs, pushing it into the CD player. Accepting it and registering it, the first track of the CD began to play. And immediately it brought tears to Michelle's eyes.

Dawn never liked driving very much. She always claimed it made her nervous. So she would always burn CDs with some of her favorite calming songs, songs that were gentle and soft and made her more at ease. And it took Michelle a moment to realize that _this_ particular CD was the one that Michelle had made for her.

The first track of _'To Build A Home'_ played on, filling her with concrete emotions of sadness and longing. She brought her hands up to grip at the steering wheel, her fingers tightening around the leather of the wheel.

 _'Cause, I built a home_

 _For you_

 _For me'_

Michelle swallowed roughly, her thoughts a million miles away. She was getting a ride home from Dawn when her car broke down and it was snowing. It was cold and they had to wait for Tenth to come save them, but they didn't let it get them down. They made a game of it, of just how many red cars or blue cars passed them by. They listened to Dawn's many CDs before Tenth was coming by, surprising them with hot chocolate.

 _'Until it disappeared_

 _From me_

 _From you'_

She didn't notice when Tenth was sliding into the car beside her, tears falling along her cheeks and her eyes going red.

" _Hey_ ," Tenth was muttering as he placed a hand gently on her arm, causing her attention to snap over to him. "You alright?"

Michelle just looked at him for a moment before looking away, turning her attention back to the wheel as she shook her head, "No. I'm not…"

She could hear the sympathy in his voice, "I'm so sorry, Michelle… What do you want to do?"

Michelle wanted a lot of things. She wanted to find who did this, who took Dawn. She wanted to know why and how. She wanted _everything_ wrong done to Dawn to be thrown back, tenfold. She wanted revenge. She wanted to go home and cry all day. But alas, none of that would happen right now.

"I just want to go," she finally muttered, turning off the car and pulling the key out, stopping the depressing music. "I _can't_ do this right now."

Her gaze just barely caught Tenth as he nodded, a solemn but understanding look upon his features, "That's okay. You don't have to do anything."

"Except go to work," Michelle breathed a mirthless and flat laugh, feeling like this whole trip just made her feel so much worse.

It didn't help. She thought maybe it would've, especially after the way Tenth talked it up the night prior, but it just **didn't.** It just made it harder. Somehow it made it much more real that Dawn was gone.

Tenth was brushing his thumb over her arm one last time, giving it a squeeze in a comforting attempt before he was leaving the car, the sound of his muffled voice speaking with Rick. This whole thing had been a waste of time. And it only served to make Michelle feel worse and more hopeless.

What a great mood to go to work on.

* * *

Rick had been understanding. They were going to hold onto the car for the time being, Dawn's parents in no position to retrieve it themselves (they lived way farther down south unfortunately). Until the investigation was officially closed, there, in _that_ garage, Dawn's car would no doubt remain. And Michelle couldn't stop thinking about it.

Even as she clocked in, solemn and quiet and unsmiling, the thought of Dawn's car just sitting there, decaying and dying, swarmed her thoughts. Dawn never getting to have her car back. Dawn never coming back to even know where her car was to begin with. They were nasty and unrelenting thoughts that were hopeless and downright depressing. But it was hard to stop them.

Michelle had to remind herself she was at work and she could pretend nothing bad was going on for a while. She had to smile and mean it as much as possible here.

"Michelle," came a familiar voice. It was Ramsay, approaching from around the corner with an odd sort of smile of regret upon his features. She turned to face him as she closed the door to her locker.

"Yeah?" she urged, eyebrows raising somewhat.

His hands were clasping together, wringing a bit nervously, "About yesterday, I just want to apologize again. I was out of place and I shouldn't have pressed you. So really, I'm sorry."

Well that was unexpected. Michelle had even forgotten that happened last night, seeing Dawn's car just throwing everything else out the window. But he was right. He _was_ out of place and she, at the very least, appreciated that he was being sincere and apologizing again.

She gave a small smile and nodded his way, "It's okay. I'm sorry I snapped at you like that. It's just been.. Rough."

Ramsay was nodding right back, "I can only imagine. You shouldn't have to go through something like that. _No one_ should."

In all the time Michelle had been working here, Ramsay was nice. He always looked and acted nice. It felt incredibly genuine this time, however. Whereas he'd always been practiced smiles and plastic pleasantries, something about this felt much more real. And she couldn't help but appreciate it all the more. She felt herself smiling a tired albeit genuine smile.

"Thank you," she said, her smile growing just slightly.

The following workday was neither slow nor busy. It was an odd in-between, just a _meh_ sort of Tuesday. Michelle was finally beginning to get down several regular orders, just spotting them and knowing immediately what she would be jotting down on paper. One man, a much older man, always got coffee with several packets of cream but she never saw him put any sugar in it. Another man, quite a fair bit younger this time, would always get his BLT without the T. And one woman always came in for tea and _only_ tea.

It was interesting that she even started to get an idea of their personalities due to these regular orders. And she had to wonder if the same sort of effect had happened for Hailey or Kate. Hailey. _Poor_ Hailey. Ever since she'd been fired, Michelle hadn't heard nor seen her. And it was an empty and sad feeling. But it wasn't important enough to linger on it.

Yet again, Michelle was closing tonight. This time it was just her, Ramsay, and Negan left after Theon clocked out and took his leave. Which was fine, really. Michelle was starting to feel like Negan was trusting her with this closing business much more. It had started to become a regular thing and allowed Michelle to go into autopilot throughout the closing activities. But not when Ramsay decided to strike up a conversation with her.

"Is your boyfriend picking you up again tonight?" he asked almost absently as he was counting out the cash in the till.

Michelle felt her hand stop for just a moment before she was resuming her task of wiping all the windows down, "No, not this time. I drove myself today."

Was he just trying to make conversation? She had to assume as much.

"Ramsay!" Negan was suddenly blurting, making Michelle jump. She turned back to see Negan with a dish rag over his shoulder, addressing Ramsay. "Gonna need your help back here with the dishes and the trash. Chop chop."

"Right away, Negan," he smiled, quickly finishing his work with the register before following Negan towards the back.

Soon, Michelle was left alone up front. Which was fine by her. No more awkward conversations and such. Just her and the windows. By the time she was on the last window, Ramsay was making his way back to the front to begin putting some things away behind the counter.

"All done with the windows?" Ramsay asked with raised brows.

Michelle was nodding as she wiped the last of the cleaner off the window, "Yup, done. Did you need any help over there?"

Ramsay was waving her off, "No, no, I'm good here! In fact, if you'd like, you can go ahead and get your things and go. I'll clock you out. You did _good_ work today, Michelle."

If she said she wasn't grateful, she'd be lying. Getting home would be a blessing. Having today over with would be a blessing. And she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. So she put the cleaning supplies away, gathered her things from her locker, and was saying her goodbyes to both Ramsay and Negan.

The rain was still coming down in decent droves, making the journey to her car a swift one. But in the dim light of the streetlamp above the parking lot, the sight of her car made her heart drop. Both of the tires on the driver side of her car were flat. And a huge gash was cutting diagonally across each. Her tires had been slashed.

It took her a moment more before she realized someone had **deliberately** destroyed both of her tires. And in that moment, she grew scared. She was quick to make her way back to the diner, banging her hand on the glass door. What if the person that had done it was still here? What if they were just waiting for the right moment to spring out and harm her? Rob her? _Or worse?_

The wait for either of her bosses to unlock the door was grueling but thankfully, there was Negan with a look of confusion upon his face as he unlocked and opened the door. She was rushing in the moment the door opened.

"Forget somethin'?" he asked before getting a better look at her. " _Je-sus!_ You look like you've seen some shit. You okay?"

Michelle swallowed hard, looking back out at the rainy and empty parking lot as though the perpetrator would be standing right there. Yet there was nothing but darkness and rain. Rain in which she was distantly aware that she was _drenched_ in.

"Someone, _I don't know_ ," she began suddenly, words clustered together and coming out quick. "Someone slashed my tires, I don't- _I don't know why_ someone would do that, **_why-_** "

" _Woah, woah, woah, woah,_ " Negan urged with brows tugging together, a look of instant surprise on his face. "Easy, slow down, darlin'. You're **really** tellin' me that some _jackass_ decided it'd be a good idea to slash one of **_MY_ ** employee's tires?"

Michelle was nodding quickly, the fear still there deep in her gut. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it occurred to her that maybe it could've just been a random act of destruction. But what were the odds that it would happen to her? Of course it had to happen on the night she was closing and the night she decided to drive herself to work.

 _Tenth._ She should call Tenth.

"I've gotta call my boyfriend to come get me," Michelle was muttering as she was unlocking her phone.

"Hold on, Michelle." The sudden voice of Ramsay caught her attention as he approached her, concern deep in his blue eyes, "Why don't I give you a ride home? The rain's only going to get worse. The sooner you get home the better."

"Now _look at that_ ," Negan mused with a grin. "And they say chivalry's dead. It don't get much more alive than that."

Michelle's phone was frozen in her hand as she quickly considered his offer. _Don't_ , her brain was screaming at her. _Just call Tenth. Have him pick you up. **Don't** let Ramsay drive you home._

She shook her head, "I appreciate the offer, but I'll just call my boyfriend to pick me up."

Negan was suddenly whistling, going down in pitch before he was clicking his tongue, "And _that's_ how chivalry dies. Denied."

And then he was laughing. Why was he making jokes at a time like this? Maybe Michelle was reacting a bit too erratically but how could she not? Nothing like this had ever happened to her before and it was downright _terrifying._ And to see her boss, someone she had begun to trust, making light of it… It made her a bit angry.

Negan seemed to gather her unspoken emotions as his smile was dropping as he watched her, "Ah… _Damn,_ I'm sorry, not meaning to make light of your situation here. I say shit and don't realize what I've said until it's too late. Here, let me make you a deal: your loving boyfriend comes and takes you home and I'll get your tire situation sorted out. _On me._ "

Well that sounded like a _really_ good deal if Michelle ever heard one. She turned her eyes from Ramsay, looking something cross between uncertain and sympathetic, to Negan, who looked quite serious, for once. He was waiting on her answer; both of them waiting, it seemed.

" _If_ you're sure…" Michelle was trailing off, biting onto her bottom lip as she did so.

"Why the hell would I have offered it if I _wasn't_ sure?" he scoffed as if it should've been obvious. "You'll have brand spankin' new tires by tomorrow and _I'll_ have a field day tryin' to find the son of a bitch that did that shit. Believe it or not, I **actually** give a shit about my employees."

It was such a nice and thoughtful thing for Negan to offer and Michelle couldn't help but feel that much more respect for the man. In all the time she'd known him, he'd always tried to do right by her. And this was all the more to the point. So she just allowed a careful smile on her face as she nodded.

"Okay," she agreed, selecting Tenth's name and bringing the phone up to her ear. "I _really_ appreciate it, Negan."

"No worries," he was grinning her way, pearly white teeth beaming. "It's _absolutely_ my pleasure."

* * *

With how panicked Tenth sounded over the phone, she had to imagine he'd gone over a few speed limits here and there. She didn't even get to tell him the full story. She was sure all he'd heard was _'slashed tires'_ and he was on his way. It only took him about fifteen minutes to arrive, a record time she was sure.

Yet again, she was saying her goodbyes to Ramsay and Negan, who had both promised to stick around until Tenth got here. They were all leaving out the door as soon as Tenth was pulling up.

"Thank you so much again, Negan," she smiled his way, truly grateful. "And thank you for offering to drive me home, Ramsay."

They both smiled her way, Negan chuckling a bit, "Sure thing, darlin'. Now go on, go home. We'll see you tomorrow. And your car will have some _nice_ new tires."

"Take care, Michelle," Ramsay was bidding her farewell, turning a moment later to head out to his car.

Michelle was damp with rain as she slid into Tenth's Audi, brushing back some of her wet hair as she closed the door.

"What the **_hell_** happened?!"

Now came the questions. She sighed, buckling herself in, "I don't know. I just finished closing and I came out to my car. Both my left tires were slashed and I just- _I don't know_ , Tenth."

Tenth looked beyond worried and unsure, "You didn't see anyone around? You don't know who would do something like that?"

"Sorry, I didn't exactly stick around after I saw it to see if any creep would come poking around," Michelle responded, maybe a bit _too_ pointedly. She took a slow breath, exhaling it just as slowly, "Look, can we just go?"

"What about your car?" Tenth asked curiously, looking around the side of the restaurant to see it in the dim streetlamp's illumination.

"Negan said he'll get the tires replaced for me," she smiled a bit at that, still blown away by how kind of an offer that had been. "He said there'll be new tires on it by tomorrow."

Tenth snorted a bit as he finally moved to begin backing out of the parking lot, "Your boss sounds like a pretty generous guy."

"Yeah," Michelle agreed with a small nod. She still felt incredibly unsettled about the whole thing but in this car, she felt safe. For the moment. "Yeah, he is."


	10. Part 10

Michelle couldn't shake this feeling of fear and terror and paranoia from her thoughts. Not after what had happened the night before. It seemed like Tenth was in the exact same boat, insisting that he stay the night with her and she had no arguments there. His arms made her feel safe and falling asleep in them eased her mind, even though it was just a small amount.

There was very little option but to just accept it had been a random act of destruction. It's not like it was a _completely_ impossible thing, right? People did things to other peoples' things with no rhyme or reason to it other than to just do it. Maybe some crazy asshole came by and saw her car. It was convenient. It was just there. Nothing more to it. She had to keep telling herself that.

When she arrived at work the next day, her car was still there. And, to her relief, the tires _were_ fixed. Brand new, as Negan had promised. It was incredible, really. And it made it feel as though it hadn't happened in the first place. It was a strange feeling to have.

Negan wasn't around today, however. Which was interesting. Every day that she had worked here in the past month, he was here. Either helping around the diner or just in the back doing some paperwork in his office. Which, she had to note, she hadn't needed to visit, something that she took as a very good sign.

As it was Wednesday, the day had been slow. The restaurant down the street was probably stealing their customers again. Michelle had no arguments about it; just meant that it was going to be an easy paycheck on that day. Not that it kept her thoughts at bay. But it was getting to the point that she was just trying to tune them all out, to pretend they didn't exist, to pretend that her tires _hadn't_ been slashed last night and to pretend that there _still_ wasn't word on Dawn's case.

But it made the hours tick by in agonizing slowness. She was all too thankful that she didn't need to close tonight, otherwise the hours might've felt like **years.**

"Where's Negan today?" Michelle found herself asking Ramsay as she was clocking out. "I haven't seen him around."

Ramsay just smiled her way, nonchalant, "He had some family business to attend to. Couldn't be around today."

Michelle could feel her brows raising somewhat, "Oh. Is everything alright?"

He nodded, "I'm sure everything will turn out alright. Just came up last minute, is all."

It was then occurring to Michelle that she knew next to _nothing_ about Negan's family. It just wasn't something that he really talked about. In fact, he barely talked about anything _at all._ How could a man with such a mouth on him talk about so little? She wasn't entirely sure how that worked out but there it was. Not that it mattered, but curiosity so little paid attention to only the important things.

"Have a good day, Michelle," Ramsay said pleasantly and simply, slipping off to go check on the small amount of customers within the diner.

 _'Every man has a right to live_

 _Love is all that we have to give'_

 **That** song came on again and that was all the incentive Michelle needed to leave. She was out of there within the next minute, in her car and heading home.

It felt oddly refreshing to be back within her own car again. It felt weird, in a sense. Tenth had been driving her around so often she almost forgot what it was like to drive herself. Which was a strange thing to experience but she thought it was comforting to have this sort of freedom again. As she made it home and parked her car, she was bringing out her phone to call up Tenth.

A few more rings than usual greeted her ears before his voice was answering, "Hey you."

"Hey," she responded with a smile, making her way to the door of her apartment and unlocking it. "What're you up to?"

Tenth groaned, "Still at work. Probably gonna be the rest of the night, too. Load of crap."

Michelle was pushing the door open, stepping inside and closing the door behind her as her brows tugged together, "What? _Why?_ Shouldn't you already be off?"

"No," he sighed. "Unfortunately not tonight. _Blah blah_ quarterly deadlines, _blah blah_ editing, editing, **editing**. It's gonna be a late one."

 _Damn._ Michelle was hoping that they'd be able to spend some time together tonight. In fact, she was wanting to try and make dinner for both of them that night. It was the _least_ she could've done for how much he'd been doing for her lately. So much for that.

She was replying with a disappointed tone, "No way out of it?"

"Afraid not," he muttered, the sound of several phones going off in the background accompanying his voice. "How was work?"

She couldn't blame him for wanting to change the subject. Hell, she'd probably do the same if she was stuck at work with no way out of it too.

"Slow," she laughed a little, settling down onto the couch in her living room. She began to fiddle with a belt loop on her work jeans. " _Really_ slow. Negan fixed my tires like he said. But he wasn't around today. Apparently some kind of family business. Or _something._ "

"Huh," Tenth was uttering, deep thoughts in the grunt of the word. "Didn't peg him for a family sort of man."

Michelle was snorting a soft laugh from her nose, "Yeah, me neither. Never really asked him about it."

Tenth took a quick breath, exhaling as he went on, "You got home alright, then?"

Slowly, a smile built its way on Michelle's lips, "Yeah, I did. I'll probably call it a night soon. I'm pretty tired."

"I'll bet," Tenth was smiling, the grin evident in his tone. He paused, allowing silence to travel between the lines before he was groaning. "Hate to cut this one short, but I've got a lot of work to get done. How about we go see a movie tomorrow? Maybe dinner at that one really nice Italian place that we keep meaning to go to? My treat."

Her smile only grew, "Yeah, that sounds _really_ amazing. I'd like that… Have fun at work."

Tenth was scoffing quite vividly, "Oh, _hah!_ Funny, you're funny."

"I try," she beamed.

That got a small laugh out of Tenth before he was settling, "I'll talk to you later. Love you, Michelle."

"Love you too."

* * *

Leftover pizza after it had been in the fridge for more than three days was really, **really** not good. On the scale of good things, it was probably as far down as possible for Michelle's taste buds. Or _anyone's_ taste buds. She kind of regretted eating the last of it but it was too late to go back now. She had to brush her teeth extra hard to get that taste out and, _even then_ , it still lingered.

She had just changed into her pajamas when there had been a knock at her door. She looked to the clock; it was nearing eleven at night. Suddenly she was reminded of the time the police showed up and she felt apprehension clawing at her stomach.

Then again, what if it was Tenth? What if he'd finished early and decided to surprise her? She was suddenly a mixture of feelings and didn't know _what_ to expect. She swallowed, dry and nervous, as she approached the locked door, looking through the peephole.

 _Nothing._ Her porch was only somewhat illuminated by the parking lot streetlamp, so as her gaze trailed down, she just barely caught a glimpse of what she could make out as a box. _What the actual hell?_

Part of her mind was screaming at her to not open the door. But another, a **much** more curious and eager part, was telling her to just open it and take the box. Taking a deep breath, she told herself she'd do it quickly.

She opened the door, peeking her head out and looking about. Nothing but darkness and parked cars greeted her eyes. Michelle stepped forward, eyeing the box which was completely blank; no shipping directions or addresses were taped to it. Nothing but a plain brown box. She grew evermore confused as she leaned down to pick it up- it felt empty. There was no weight behind it.

All too soon, she realized the part that screamed at her to not open the door had been right. In a flash of movement, there was a dark figure slipping closely to her left, her mouth opening in a sudden gasp of surprise to find a rag being shoved into her mouth. The figure apprehended her and before she could get a grasp on the situation, she felt a sharp stab at her neck. Fear overtook her body and she tried to scream, but the rag in her mouth didn't allow much noise to escape and her mind was swimming.

Her body was beginning to feel weak, feeling as though she was sinking into quicksand and she was so, _**so** _ fucking **_scared_**. Her brain told her voice to scream, but nothing would come. Her consciousness was fading fast and she couldn't keep a hold on it. The last thing she remembered was the faint and distant sound of someone shushing her before nothingness overtook her.

* * *

Her head hurt. She felt sick. In fact, she was sure she wanted to throw up. A sudden bump shook her body and she realized slowly that she was bound. The uncomfortable sensation of ropes wrapped around her wrists behind her back came to her attention along with the feeling of her ankles rubbing at the material in the most unpleasant ways.

Everything still felt so cloudy and nothing but darkness and the sound of a motor surrounded her. She could feel her consciousness beginning to fail her again but she tried to fight it. Unfortunately, it was all for naught; it was no use.

* * *

It was almost like a veil had suddenly been lifted from her mind. She startled awake, breathing deeply and erratically. Her hands and legs were still tied, but the gag was gone. Had she even been gagged to begin with? Now she didn't know.

Immediately, she tried to sit up, but that was a _bad_ idea. Her stomach turned in displeasing ways before she felt whatever was left in there being emptied out before her. She threw up, dry heaving a time or two before she finally stopped.

It was completely dark where she was- where was she? She didn't know. She almost didn't _want_ to know. All she could find herself doing was scooting back until she ran into a wall, her head pounding into it quite roughly. She winced, the pain shooting throughout her head and neck.

" _Hello?!_ " she cried out, breathing heavily and tears threatening at the backs of her eyes.

This was okay. This was going to be okay. It was going to be okay. It had to be okay. It was just a dream. That's all this was, that's all this had to be, _it had to be._ She went around in circles in her mind that none of this was happening. It **couldn't** have been happening. She sat like that in the pitch black, nothing but silence meeting her ears. It was so quiet and so dark, she started to wonder if maybe she was in purgatory. That maybe she'd died and got stuck in a realm of nothingness. And it was cold too. So very cold. Why? _Why?_

 _ **Why?**_

The passing of time felt as though it didn't make sense. For one second she felt like she had been here hours, days, _years._ But then the next, she was doubting herself and she felt as though it had been seconds since she'd woken. It was amazing what silence and darkness could do to your sense of time.

The sound of creaking metal was so shrill it made Michelle's heart jump into her throat and it sent shivers throughout her nerves. A small bit of light flooded into the room and for a split moment she could see she was in a small, square room- and that was all she gathered before the light disappeared again.

 _Thud. Thud. Thud._

The sound of heavy but slow and certain footsteps were approaching. If she could back away anymore, she was certain she'd be digging a hole through the wall. They grew closer. And as they did, so did a whistling. A tune that Michelle could recognize at any time, any day, any where. A tune that would surely plague her for the rest of her life.

 _'Struggling man has got to move_

 _Struggling man, no time to lose_

 _I'm a struggling man_

 _And I've got to move on'_

The lights, fluorescent and stingingly painful to her eyes, were flicking on, and before her stood the last person she'd expected: Negan. He was wearing a completely out of place grin, the whites of his teeth like daggers, his glasses missing and making him look ten times more wrong than ever before, and his eyes watching her with hungry intent.

" _Hi_ , Michelle," he finally spoke, voice hoarse and grinding like sandpaper. "Sorry to keep you waiting."


	11. Part 11

How was _any_ of this happening right now? How wasn't Michelle just waking up? She **had** to wake up. There was no way this was real. There was absolutely no way this was happening right now. She felt like she couldn't breathe, like her throat was closing up on her. She was so terrified and Negan's smile only made it all the worse.

 _What the hell was going on?!_

Suddenly, Negan's smile was turning into a scowl as he eyed the bile on the floor before Michelle, sighing roughly as he sauntered closer, "I told Ramsay not to use so much of that shit on you. I'll have to get on his ass about that."

She was shaking when he grew closer, crouching down slowly as he stopped before her. Both his hands came together as his elbows rested on his knees, his squinting eyes watching her carefully.

"Sorry 'bout all this," he began in a low voice, sounding almost sincere. Apologizing as if it would make all of this better. As if it would make it even **_remotely_ ** okay. "This isn't how I wanted this to happen but things didn't exactly go down as smoothly as planned. I'm of the opinion of doing things much more- _nicely._ "

Michelle was opening her mouth to say something, _anything_ , anything at all; she had so many questions, all burning on her tongue but nothing would come out. It was as if she had gone mute and her vocal chords were frozen. What the fuck. _What the fuck?!_

Negan was nodding a few times, speaking once more before the piercing silence of the room dragged by for too long, "It's all a bit of a shocker, _I know._ I get it. Shit's confusing right now. And I can bet your pretty little mouth has got **all** those questions just waiting to get free. But you're gonna need to take it easy until all that shit's outta your system."

Michelle could feel a tear escape one of her eyes, dragging down her cheek in a slow and painful manner. She still couldn't give voice to everything she wanted. Why couldn't she?

Negan was reaching forward, Michelle flinching as the skin of his fingers met her cheek, brushing away the tear. His fingers lingered, thumb rubbing her face in a soothing manner. It made her blanch, the desire to throw up hitting her all over again in a nauseating wave.

"Now don't cry, darlin'. You're far, _far_ too pretty to be crying."

At that, Negan's smile was growing and growing, a sickeningly sweet grin of white teeth and a playful chuckle. Before long, he was standing up straight once more, turning on his heel as he went on, "I'll give you some time to yourself, let you figure some of this shit out on your own. Ramsay'll be by to pick you up to speed and clean that crap up. Take it easy, Michelle."

He was whistling once more, that stupid tune that Michelle never wanted to hear again for as long as she lived. After he disappeared up some stairs, the sound of a heavy door was creaking open before slamming shut again, a fresh burst of cold air coming through before metal was scraping on metal. Whatever door she was behind in this room must've been a big and complicated one.

Michelle finally took a moment to get a good look at her surroundings. The room was white and grey, odd paddings on all of the walls except for a few portions here and there. There was a bed, a sink, and a toilet. Beyond that, it was completely bare. The floor was cold tile, patterned in black and white squares that held a certain lifelessness to it that made her shiver.

So many questions ravaged her mind. Where was she? Why was Negan here? How was Ramsay involved?

Her mind suddenly jumped back to her previous memories. The box in front of her apartment, the dark figure, the sharp prick at her neck- **_oh._** She blacked out right after that, leading her to believe she'd been given some kind of- _something_. Some drug.

 _'I told Ramsay not to use so much of that shit on you.'_

Oh. Had that been Ramsay? It was the only thing that she could make sense of right then. But there was no explanation for **why**. _Why_ had Ramsay and Negan done this to her? Were there more people involved? Was this what had happened to Dawn?

Holy shit. It was, _wasn't it?_ They were responsible for Dawn's disappearance. They _had_ to be. Michelle felt sick to her stomach, the nausea overwhelming her and she could only wish she would throw up again. Her head began a vicious pounding as she choked on a sob, screwing her eyes shut.

Tenth would be so worried. Was it even possible that he would find her? Would it be possible for anyone to find her? If no one could find Dawn, then that meant… **_Oh God._**

Suddenly her breathing was growing too erratic and she could feel herself going into full panic mode. This was _bad_. This was really, **really** bad. Her heart rate was going through the roof, her head pounding. She curled herself into a ball, trying to calm down. _It was going to be okay,_ she told herself over and over. She had to be strong right now. Strong was all she had, so she had to try.

Deep breath in and then let it out. She repeated that over and over until she was no longer panicking, just breathing in the cold air over and over. Freaking out about this wouldn't help her right now. Despite calming herself down, the pounding in her head was insistent and didn't seem like it was going to let up anytime soon.

Looking up once more, Michelle looked over to the bed. It didn't look incredibly uncomfortable and she was exhausted. If the sound of that door was any kind of clue, it would probably be pretty close to impossible to just escape. It seemed as though this whole thing was planned anyway so trying to get away wouldn't be feasible, much as she wished the opposite.

Besides, maybe she could, at the very least, learn more about Dawn this way. She had to look at the silver lining here. Maybe she could get to see Dawn again. _God_ , did she hope this whole situation would lead her back to Dawn.

Taking a slow breath, Michelle pushed herself up against the wall, trying her best to get to a standing position. Which proved to be quite the task with both her arms and legs bound the way they were. But with perseverance and dedication, she did it, standing against the wall and hopping carefully over to the bed. It was a lot more comfortable than it looked and it was a welcome sensation.

She laid herself down onto it, head hitting the feather pillow before she felt herself drifting off, uncertainty clouding her future.

* * *

Michelle was startled awake by that awful metal on metal scraping noise. It set her teeth on edge as her eyes flew open. Immediately, she was sitting up, her arms sore and her wrists sorer still. The door closed and coming into the room was Ramsay.

She immediately glared his way, knowing without a doubt _he_ was the one to have put her here. Ramsay and Negan. They were **both** responsible for this. They were both responsible for Dawn.

"Ah, you found your way to the bed," he mused with a smile on his face. "It's been a rough night for you. Sorry about that, Michelle-"

"Where's Dawn," Michelle growled, getting right to the point.

Ramsay looked a bit surprised as he stopped before the mess of Michelle's puke on the floor. He huffed a small chuckle as he shook his head, "And what makes you think _I_ know where she is, hm?"

" **Don't** play! Don't act like you don't know!" Michelle snapped, growing even more angry. "You took her like you took me, you- _you-!_ "

Ramsay sighed as he began to clean up the mess, "Michelle, _honestly_ , that anger is going to get you nowhere. I'm not the one to be asking questions like that. Save those for Negan."

Her eyebrows were turning down in frustration, her voice full of spite as she spat the words, "Oh, okay, I get it. So you're just Negan's _bitch_ , huh?"

Ramsay paused, jaw clenching as his smile fell. It lasted for only a moment but Michelle saw he didn't like that. He **_really_ ** didn't like that. And something about that felt satisfying in its own way. He resumed his motions as he cleaned the floor with a rag.

"Think what you want," Ramsay chuckled, wiping the floor clean. "But I think that'll be _your_ title soon enough."

Michelle knew, she _always_ knew, there was something off about Ramsay. Something never quite right. All the practiced smiles and forced kindness. She knew it. Negan seemed like maybe he was just much better at faking it.

Finally, Ramsay was standing and making his way closer to Michelle. She instinctively wanted to move away, to run somehow. But she knew if she so much as _flinched_ it would be a sign of weakness to him. And she was certain he was the type of man that preyed on that sort of reaction. She wouldn't give it to him.

He grew closer, leaning in more and more until mere inches separated their faces. She could feel his breath on her face, a smell of ice and terror. She glared at him, his own eyes intensely studying her.

"You might want to learn how to behave," he ground out through clenched teeth, expression unmoving as he stared her down. Ramsay was reaching forward, grasping her chin between his fingers. She didn't let it deter her from glaring the deadliest glare she could muster. "You'll make this harder for yourself if you don't. Consider this a warning and some _very_ friendly advice."

Without thinking first, Michelle was spitting in his face, causing him to flinch back somewhat. She took several deep breaths before she was uttering quite clearly and with venomous spite, " **Fuck. You.** "

Ramsay was allowing a smile to crawl onto his lips before he was leaning back and slamming his open palm into the side of her cheek quite roughly and swiftly. It stung like harsh pin needles, causing her to recoil from the blow. Fresh tears rose to her eyes from the strike but she refused to let them fall.

"Last warning," he said pleasantly, a tone that terrified Michelle and sent a shiver down her spine. "I was going to remove those ropes for you, but it seems like you want them on a bit longer. Such a shame."

He was turning, grabbing the small amount of cleaning supplies he'd brought with him, and he was making his way back up the steps. The grating metal greeted Michelle's ears before silence surrounded her once more.

The heat of the welt on her cheek grew and lessened in pulsating waves of pain as she contemplated what had just happened. _What was even the point?_ All of this felt so incredibly pointless. She couldn't find a rhyme nor a reason to all of this. Even more so as to why Ramsay was holding out information on Dawn. All pretenses of innocence were lost and surely he knew it.

As much as she didn't want to admit it, maybe he was right. Maybe she needed to hold all those questions for Negan. She was getting the vibe that _he_ was in charge of this whole thing. How typical.

* * *

It was impossible to tell just how much time had passed in here. The lights remained pale and white and buzzing, the cool air remained constant. The only indication that time had passed was the growing pain on her wrists as she continued to try and struggle free from her restraints. She had no doubt that her wrists looked incredibly unpleasant. Certainly they couldn't look any worse than they felt, at least.

Maybe that was the point of this room. Obviously it had been built just to hold people they'd abducted. Make the passage of time impossible to tell. It was enough to make Michelle go _mad_ and she was certain she hadn't been in here for more than maybe a couple hours or so. Maybe it had been longer than that. But God, what if it had been shorter?

 _She didn't know._

All she knew was the sound of the door, a sound quickly growing familiar, unhinging and footsteps following. The whistling of a painfully familiar tune was following as well. It was Negan. She couldn't help but feel like he was doing that on purpose.

" _ **Ho** -ly_ _god_ - ** _damn_** ," he was remarking as he came into view, looking over at Michelle. "He really did a number on your face there, didn't he? Shee- ** _it_** , Ramsay's playin' hardball with you!"

"Why am I here?" Michelle found her voice, the question flat and directly to the point. She didn't want to play around anymore. She just wanted answers.

Negan's eyebrows shot up on his forehead as he was leaning back somewhat, almost as though he was surprised by how direct that was, "Well then, you waste no time at all, do you? No, of _course_ you don't, you're a **real** go getter! You get shit done, _you!_ Get answers; I should know, I **hired** you! You're the badass kinda strong and independent woman that don't take shit sittin' down."

Slowly, he was sauntering over to her, continuing on as though he just loved to hear the sound of his own voice filling the room, "Which is _exactly_ why I like you so damn much, Michelle Morris. Y'know, you're the first one I actually took time to try and get to know before I got you down here. Thought a little bonding time before I took you in would make you a little more special."

That just confirmed it, didn't it? That the disappearances had to do with him. It had _everything_ to do with him. Which meant all too clearly that he knew where Dawn was at this very moment in time.

Negan was soon settling onto the bed beside Michelle, causing her to scoot away from him, as far as the bed would possibly allow. He just watched her, smile still on his face as he chuckled and shook his head.

"What can I say, I'm a _romantics_ sorta man," he shrugged, as though this entire situation wasn't somehow **completely** fucked up.

"Where. Is. Dawn." Michelle insisted angrily. "I _know_ you know. I know it was you and Ramsay. So just tell me."

Silence pervaded as Michelle finished speaking before Negan was sighing, bringing his gloved hands up in slight defeat, "Look, you want answers, I get that. But there's gotta be some _trust_ involved here for me to give you some answers. So let's do a _quid pro quo._ I'll scratch your back, you scratch mine sorta deal. I'll let you outta those ropes **AND** answer your questions if, and _only_ if, you be the polite little pretty lady I know you can be."

Negan was pausing before he was leaning closer, his voice growing quieter, "Now that's a _hell_ of a deal that I would take if I were you, Howie. Let's make this whole thing a lot smoother and easier for us both, eh?"

Teeth were biting at her lower lip as she considered this. It was in no way her intention to just go along with all of this. To just accept it for what it was and do what either Negan or Ramsay told her. But if it meant getting answers… She didn't have much of a choice in the matter, did she?

Michelle swallowed before taking a deep breath and nodding, "Okay. _Fine._ "

At her approval, Negan was motioning for Michelle to come closer. She complied, turning her back to him so he could remove her bindings. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a knife. She closed her eyes tightly before he was slicing the rope then leaning down to her legs to cut the rope there.

"There we fuckin' go," he sighed playfully, closing the pocket knife back up and putting it back into his jacket. "Now **that's** better, isn't it? Never liked leaving my ladies in rope for too long. Hope your wrists don't hurt too much."

His supposed concern was so off putting to Michelle. It sounded almost genuine but there was no way it could be… Could it?

She pushed the thoughts away as she asked again, "Where's Dawn? Just- _please_ tell me. I need to know."

Negan's strong eyebrows were knitting together in odd sort of solemn way, "Now that's a question I just _can **not**_ answer. Not now, anyway."

Michelle had to push whatever anger she was feeling about this development down, trying to remember she had to keep her cool, "Then when? _When_ can you answer that?"

"Just not now. Next question."

She was gritting her teeth in tight anger before moving on, "Why am I here?"

He was chuckling as if it should've been obvious, fingers coming up to tilt her head up by her chin, "Because you're **fucking** gorgeous, that's why."

That was a disgusting answer. So disgusting, she wished she could've thrown up all over him. But she let it pass for now, moving on.

"Where am I? How long have I been here?"

Negan continued to smile, complacent and disturbingly genial, "You're at the best damn diner in the world and you've been here about, _oh_ \- six hours. **Maybe** seven. Give or take."

Her eyes were widening. _She was at Lucille's Diner?!_ She didn't recognize this place. It didn't even _look_ anything like Lucille's. But then it hit her. _The freezer._

"This is what you were doing to the freezer?!" Michelle exclaimed, surprise clear in her tone although she tried to mask it as much as possible. He didn't deserve much of a genuine reaction from her. "That's where the cold air is coming from?"

Negan snorted, "I _knew_ you were a smart cookie. You shouldn't've seen Ramsay giving Hailey the boot over the whole freezer incident either. Told him to be more discreet with that shit."

Michelle was shaking her head, "Don't you think it's a little _stupid_ to be holding people you kidnap in the freezer of a restaurant?! Did it ever occur to you that-"

She was stopping suddenly, the realization hitting her more and more. _Everything_ was beginning to make sense. That scream she'd heard that one night, it had to have come from down here. _Shit._

Negan was watching her expectantly, waiting for her to continue but when she didn't, Negan went on, "Don't worry your pretty little head about it. Now what you **should** be worryin' about is being on your best behavior. Because this is how it's gonna be going down and you should listen very.. _very_ carefully."

Michelle could feel herself wanting to back away as the overbearing man was leaning towards her, but she refused to give into it. She refused to give him any reaction, so she just watched him, stoic and glaring.

"This is gonna be your temporary home for some time," his voice was low and husky and held an edge to it that cut Michelle deep. "You're _really_ not gonna like it if you don't just cooperate. And I'm sure _Dawn's_ not gonna like it if you don't cooperate either."

Hearing Dawn's name like that being thrown around like a threat made Michelle's blood boil. How dare he do something like that. How **dare** he hold her safety over Michelle's head like that. _It was disgusting._

Negan took a slow breath as he pointed a gloved finger at her, "You and I are gonna be spending some quality time together. And I happen to be a _perfect_ gentleman; I will **never** lay a hand on you, I will never so much as _threaten_ to harm you. Ramsay, on the other hand… He's a little more of the physical type if you push him. So I suggest you do **_not_ ** push him."

"What is the point?" Michelle breathed in a low growl, the feeling of fresh tears springing to her eyes. "Why. Are you. Doing this?"

Not a word escaped Negan's lips before he was leaning back somewhat, a slow but assured grin pulling his lips up. He allowed the silence to linger a moment longer before he was responding, "Con- _ **fuckin**_ -grat-u- _lations,_ my dear. You've been selected to be one of my absolutely beautiful and **lucky** wives."


	12. Part 12

There was something so _fundamentally_ and **completely** fucked up about this entire situation. No, not _just_ the situation, but Negan. He had some sort of idea that Michelle was going to become one of his wives? Not **a** wife. Not just the singular wife, but plural. Suggesting that she was a part of some kind of harem of wives he had tucked away somewhere.

It made sense in the sickest of ways. And the more Michelle thought about it, the sicker it made her. She was being added to a collection of Negan's; the similarity of Dawn and Sherry's appearances making sense. Because Michelle was among them now. Her dark hair, dark eyes, fair skin, it seemed to be Negan's favorite. And that was why she and Dawn and Sherry and whoever else, had gone missing. How _many_ wives did he have? She didn't know and almost didn't want to find out.

The biggest question was where were they? She hadn't thought to ask him when he'd been here hours ago. The day had ticked by, her head growing more and more clear as it went on and with it, clarity on the situation. Whatever it was that Ramsay had injected her with, it really gave her mind a trip and a half and she was glad it was passing.

It was still damn near impossible to tell the passing of time but a good handful of hours had surely passed since Negan left her to herself. She'd gotten the chance to get up, looking about the room and trying to find any kind of weakness in the establishment. She was quick to learn that the odd padding on the wall was some kind of noise canceller, making her realize that _any_ kind of shouting for help wouldn't do a damn thing.

And the door. Holy shit the door. It looked just as heavy and metallic as it sounded, a keypad requiring a passcode from this side to even open. It just confirmed everything she had gathered from the start about this room. Escaping wouldn't be an option. And as much as she didn't want to, it seemed complying would be the only way to somehow get out of here.

If Negan's other… _'wives'_... weren't here (she shuddered having to think of it like that), then that meant maybe she wouldn't be here forever. Negan had mentioned it would be a temporary living arrangement, after all. And if she wanted to see Dawn again, she'd have to play nice. Pretend. It was going to be the hardest damn thing she'd done in her entire life but she didn't have a choice.

She'd found herself settled back on the white sheets of the bed, half under the covers, half out, when the sound of the door opening caught her attention. Michelle grimaced as she heard that whistling. _Again._ It was going to drive her up the wall at some point. Did he have to do that every time? It was probably so very deliberate.

Suddenly, as the cold air blew through, so did a wafting smell of something- enticing. Something good. Something food. Her stomach clawed at itself as she realized she was incredibly hungry.

Negan appeared in view, stopping to smile her way as he held a tray of Lucille's Diner food in a gloved hand, "Hi there, darlin'. Thought you might be downright starved."

"I don't want your sympathy," Michelle muttered, her tone hard and betraying how much she _really_ wanted that food.

Negan was chuckling as he leaned back, his laughter like crackling velvet, "You are such a **feisty** one. No need to get so worked up, it's just some damn food, sunshine. I'm just tryin' to be a thoughtful and kind husband-to-be."

He didn't wait before he was moving closer, settling the tray of a full meal atop the bed before her. It was the BLT meal with fries and a side of coffee. Her regular order. She bit at the inside of her lips as she stared at it.

Negan let out a long sigh as he crouched down beside the bed, watching her carefully. The room grew quiet before she was looking over at him with an odd sort of suspicion in her eyes. He scoffed as he motioned to the food, "It ain't gonna eat itself, y'know."

Michelle continued to say nothing, her eyes narrowing in uncertainty as she did so.

"Jesus, **_what_** , you think I _poisoned_ it?" he was laughing, _really_ laughing, toothy grin and all. "Man, that's a hoot! You really think I'd go through **all** this trouble to get you in here just so I can poison you?! Fuck, you've been watchin' too much TV."

Michelle sighed in defeat, "Do you have to- watch me?"

"I thought we could chat some more," he admitted with slightly raised brows. "That won't be so bad, now will it?"

She clenched her jaw for a moment as she swallowed before she was reaching forward to grab a french fry. She took a bite of it, the food offering a familiar comfort to it but it felt all wrong in this moment. Her eyes continued to remain down as she ate slowly, trying so very hard to pretend Negan wasn't there.

"You were close to Dawn, weren't you?" he asked, breaking that illusion of his missing presence.

She swallowed the food dryly before she took another bite. Not a word came from her as she continued eating.

Negan was sighing beside her, the minute sounds of his fingers brushing over the salt and pepper stubble on his face. His voice sounded almost genuinely solemn enough to glance his way, " _Shit_... I'll admit, I saw you two and your loverboy come in a time or two way back when, but I didn't think- **man.** That's just fucked up."

What would _he_ know about _'fucked up'?_ What the actual shit would he even know? Here he was acting like he was detached from the whole damn thing when **he** was the one to have taken Dawn in the first place. _He_ was the one that made her go through so much hell. She wanted to throw this tray of food right in his face.

But she resisted and remained quiet.

"Sorry it went down like that," he muttered, voice almost a whisper. "Can't imagine how hard all this shit has been on you."

" ** _No!_** " Michelle finally snapped, turning to him with tears burning in her eyes and a shaking, brittle rage in her words. "No, you **can't**. Because you don't know what the hell it's like. You can't even begin to _**GRASP**_ the depth of how you hurt _everyone_ that's cared about her! You can't even understand what it's like to have someone you care about so much just- just- **_TAKEN_ ** away from you!"

For a split moment, Michelle could almost see something akin to pain flashing across Negan's features. But it was quickly masked, hardening back into its previous solemn exterior.

"You're so sure of that, aren't you?" Negan muttered in a whisper, a mirthless huff of a chuckle escaping. He was smiling again, looking off to the side before returning his dark eyes her way, "You've probably got this _huge_ ol' idea that I'm the big bad monster and that there's no **way** in hell I could've lost anything. But let's just say we've all got our own shit we've lost. And we've all got our own shit to get over. So I'm sorry to burst your bubble and say that horse you're ridin' is a little too high and your snowflake isn't as damn _special_ as you think it is."

There was no way that Michelle was going to consider, for even a second, that maybe Negan had someone he cared about and lost. It was easier to think of him, as he put it, _'the big bad monster'_. And she wouldn't dare to think on it more than that.

"Why won't you tell me where she is?" Michelle forced out, the tears beginning to become too hard to hold onto. They began to slip and drench her cheeks. "It's all I've wanted for the past several months. So why can't you just give me that?"

Negan was watching her carefully, eyes flickering across her features as if he was searching for something. _What_ it was, she couldn't tell. Maybe she didn't even want to know. But he reached forward to wipe away her tears, his hands off puttingly gentle and careful.

"I'll leave you to it, then," he sighed as he stood, that smile, although much less intense than usual, staining his lips again. "I believe I've distressed you quite enough for one visit. I'm actually tryin' to get you to like me here. Don't wanna be counterproductive to the cause. I'll have Ramsay drop in to check on you later. Maybe I'll have him bring you some books or some sudoku shit."

Michelle didn't say a word. It would be useless, she knew it. And he just left out the way he came, leaving her to nothing but her tray of food that she suddenly felt all too sick to even touch.

* * *

Michelle was incredibly exhausted and she wanted nothing more than to just sleep everything away. To sleep and hope that maybe it triggered her waking up next to Tenth in the comfort of her own bed. It was such a fanciful and pathetic hope at rejecting the reality of the situation, but she was looking for any kind of escape. Even if it meant imagining a scenario that would never happen.

She laid on her side, facing the cold wall, padded up with the odd noise cancelling substance. Michelle reached a hand out to it, dragging her fingertips over it. It seemed to be a reinforced sort of foam, much harder and sturdier than any kind of foam she'd come across. It disturbed her to the core to think just how planned all of this was. Just how prepared they were.

The sound of the door opening didn't even catch her attention anymore. She didn't want to see who it was. If Negan's last words were any indication, it was probably Ramsay. And somehow she wanted to see him even less than Negan, her cheek still sore from the blow earlier that day. Had it still been the same day? She wasn't sure anymore.

"Michelle," there was his voice, a grating tone that made her cringe. She didn't turn around. "Are you awake?"

She remained still, almost as though she wanted to fool him into thinking she was asleep so he'd just go away. Maybe it'd be better that way. She could hear him giving a small sigh before he was stepping closer, dropping something onto the floor before her bed. It must've been the books Negan promised. How thoughtful.

Just as his footsteps began to recede, a very important question flared up in her mind. A question she wasn't sure why she hadn't considered until now but now that she had, it was burning in her mind with an intensity and a need to have an answer.

Michelle turned, catching him just before he was out of sight, "Ramsay."

The man stopped, turning with a slightly surprised expression and the tray in his hands holding an empty plate and glass, "Ah, so you _are_ awake. Don't be so rude next time-"

"Why are you doing all of this for Negan?" she cut him off, not at all wanting to deal with any kind of banter he would no doubt start. Her eyes watched him intently, not wavering for even a moment as consideration flit along his expression.

Ramsay shrugged just a small bit, a smile, _oddly_ fond, curling his lips, "Let's just say I owe Negan quite a lot. I've been in the business of- _apprehending_ people for quite some time and Negan gave me his protection when I needed it most and let me indulge in it on his behalf. There's a lot more rules involved than when I was going at this solo, but it keeps both me and him happy."

Michelle was grimacing, disgusted at this revelation, "You're both perfect for each other. _How cute._ "

Ramsay laughed in genuine amusement as he turned to face her more properly, "What can I say, he is a very dear friend of mine and I respect him quite a lot."

It was then that a small bit of conversation came flooding back to Michelle's mind like a fever dream.

 _'Ah, well, that's more than likely because I've been tied up with other business for the past year or so. I've been doing a lot of work from home. The owner and I are good friends, so he's allowed me some time to sort things out.'_

Her eyes were widening as she put two and two together, "You said you had other business for the past year. What did you do?"

"Without getting into dirty details, I made a mistake and Negan helped me cover for it," he explained, so casually that it made Michelle grimace. "Long story short, he saw some potential and we struck a deal, though I had to lay low for some time."

An incredibly curious part of Michelle's mind was begging for more details but she knew better. If she heard anymore she was certain she'd regret asking in the first place. If anything, for her own sound mind. She had enough to worry about without getting any kind of mental images about what Ramsay meant. Best to keep it that way for now.

" _Adorable_ story," Michelle couldn't stop the groan as she sat up more properly. "But what do you even get out of it?"

A much more sinister smile was creeping onto Ramsay's lips as he quipped quite proudly, "The thrill of the chase. Seeing all my planning succeed. Getting to toy with the women I capture for him. Sometimes Negan even lets me have a little.. _fun_ before they officially become his wife."

Michelle could feel her breath stop, now feeling incredibly uncomfortable at what he was implying. She didn't like that. She didn't like that **one** little bit.

"What do you mean?" Michelle was asking in a barely shaking voice, kicking herself for _ever_ letting the words escape.

Ramsay was chuckling, "Negan has his own set of boundaries he doesn't cross. But _mine_ aren't nearly as strict. So long as you behave yourself, though, I'm sure you'll be just fine. Negan really, _really_ seems to like you. And I won't lie; I like you quite a lot myself."

Yet again, Michelle wanted to throw up. But she held her resolve as much as she could, not even deeming his words worthy of a response.

"Take care for now, Michelle," Ramsay said his goodbyes before he was heading back up the stairs, the door creaking open and closed once more.

She still stood by what she said. No matter how Ramsay wanted to look at it, he _really_ was Negan's bitch. And it made her stomach turn in vile disgust.


	13. Part 13

It must have been late in the evening when Ramsay came back around again. He had food this time although Michelle wasn't sure she was really all that hungry. Having an entire day to just sit there and think about how completely screwed up everything was tended to ruin an appetite (she didn't even bother with any of the books he'd brought by or the stupid sudoku book either). But she wouldn't lie when she admitted that the burger meal looked _pretty_ damn tempting.

Michelle watched it for several moments as Ramsay set it in front of her on the bed before she was looking up at him, "How did you find me?"

Her voice sounded hollow even to herself, the mental and emotional strain this day had caused leaving her feeling as though there was little point in getting angry now. She would get her answers, make sure she knew everything, and save her anger for later when she could use it properly. Maybe it should've scared her how many times she'd imagined killing them both throughout her stay, but she couldn't be bothered by it right then.

Ramsay was smiling pleasantly at her ( _God_ how she wanted to punch it right off his stupid face) as he responded, "Find you? What're you talking about?"

" _You know what I mean_ ," Michelle growled, his expression hardening slightly. "How did you know that I'd be home? And alone? For all you knew, Tenth could've been over or I could've gone to his place and your plan would've been screwed."

Ramsay chuckled, "Oh c'mon Michelle, give me a _little_ more credit than that. Did you already forget about the tires?"

Tires. Her slashed tires. She'd nearly _completely_ forgotten about that but now it was all she could focus on. Negan offered to fix her tires. Her eyes slowly widened in realization.

" _There_ it is," Ramsay quipped quite playfully. He advanced closer, moving to push the tray of food closer to the wall as he settled onto the bed himself. She unconsciously moved back from him, but he didn't move any closer as she did so. " _I_ slashed your tires. Negan had them repaired, gave your car a little upgrade. Tracked _and_ tapped. We originally just planned to take you that night when I offered to drive you home, but of course you had to do it your way. And we were getting impatient."

Somehow Michelle was surprised in the worst way possible. It seemed like these two were coming up with worse and worse ways to make her stomach turn in deplorable waves. They had spent time talking this over with one another. They had taken time out of their days to discuss a plan to **kidnap** someone and it absolutely wasn't their first time. It just confirmed how fucked up all of this was.

Michelle couldn't look at him any longer, turning her attention back down to the tray of still steaming food. Her stomach lurched.

"Don't be so sad," Ramsay cooed in a sickly sweet voice, the bed moving as he seemed to be reaching forward to wrap his fingers around her upper arm. She tensed immediately, jerking her arm back and knocking his hand away.

" _ **DON'T.**_ _Touch me_ ," Michelle breathed, venom in her words. But they both knew how little weight Michelle's words carried. Like an animal backed into a corner, baring its teeth in desperate terror.

Michelle's dark eyes were looking up at him through the hair clouding her face, as if hiding behind it could keep him at bay. But she knew better.

Ramsay's smile fell as he was moving even closer, both his hands tightly and roughly grabbing her wrists. He moved fast, much faster than she was anticipating, and suddenly she was trapped between him and the wall, her back flush against the foam substance. She cried out in slight pain as his hands tightened, threatening to leave bruises and bringing back the pain of rope burns.

" _STOP_ , get off me!" Michelle ground out through clenched teeth as she struggled, hissing as he only pressed her deeper into the wall.

His face grew mere inches away from her own, his eyes moving quite freely over her features and drinking her in hungrily, as if he was getting high off the act. Even closer still he pressed, the feeling of his breath ghosting over her lips. She stilled.

"I don't think you really get it," he muttered. His voice was a whispering dagger coated in sickly poison. "You _really_ ought to appreciate what we're trying to do for you. Just how nice we're being. Self restraint is really.. quite **difficult** around you."

The sharp sound of the door was suddenly creaking open, heavy footsteps following. Michelle was grateful- it had to be Negan. She never thought she'd be relieved for Negan coming when he did but she was. Because right now she was downright _terrified_ of Ramsay and what he wanted to do to her. She honestly couldn't tell if he wanted to rape her or kill her. Maybe both in either order. And it made her blanch.

Although she could see Negan entering the room just past Ramsay, the younger man didn't budge. He continued to stare at her, strong fingers tight on her wrists. Maybe she had been mistaken about the relief. For all she knew, Negan could've just let him do what he wanted. That terrified her to her core.

She swallowed hard as she watched Negan with wide eyes, pleading almost.

"Alright, Ramsay," Negan was sighing quite dramatically, overplaying it, even. "That's enough. Cut it out. Don't make me shove a knife up your ass."

For a few seconds, Ramsay didn't move, continuing to watch Michelle with intense blue eyes and strong clenching jaw. But those seconds passed and he was letting go of her, pulling away and stepping off the bed.

Instinctively, Michelle was cradling one of her wrists in her hand, the flesh even more sore than it had been after the ropes. She wanted to cry but she forced back the tears. She wasn't going to cry in front of both of them.

She watched as Ramsay looked over to Negan, who appeared incredibly casual and relaxed with hands in his jean pockets and a raised brow Ramsay's way.

"I told her the whole story about the tires," Ramsay was smiling again, much more pleasantly and almost a touch amused. "She wasn't all that impressed, I don't think."

Negan clicked his tongue as he looked back over to Michelle, "What a damn diggity darn shame! I thought it was a _pretty_ good recover far as plans and thinkin' on my feet go. But yeah, I get it, we're not gonna get any pats on the back or any standing ovation for all our hard work."

When Michelle didn't reply, only squinting in a dark glare his way, Negan brought up his right arm, flicking back the sleeve of his jacket to look at his wristwatch. He just looked at it so casually, as though he _wasn't_ standing in his own prison cell with a captive victim and his accomplice.

"Since I gotta feeling you are just **_dying_** to know, it is nearing _eleven o'clock_ on this fine evening!" Negan grinned over at Michelle, a weird sense of pride in the expression. "Congratulations, my dear, because you! Have been here nearly an entire twenty-four, **count 'em** , _TWENTY! FOUR! **HOURS!**_ And you haven't tried to dig your way out to China yet! I am _SO_ proud of you, darlin'. You kept our deal a lot better than I thought you would've too. You're a _bundle_ of joyful surprises."

Ramsay was chiming in, tone a little disappointed, "Not entirely, I'm afraid. You walked in on me disciplining her for being rude. I was only trying to comfort her and she shook me off."

" _Somethin' tells me she doesn't like you very much_ ," Negan was playfully whispering as he leaned closer to Ramsay. "What with the whole spittin' in your face and now being rude when you're just tryin' to be a shoulder to cry on? **Buddy.** That's rough."

 _'I don't like either of you,'_ Michelle wanted to say. She wanted to say it so very, **very** badly. But she still felt too shaken up. Her wrists and cheek ached in a painful reminder. So she remained quiet.

"She'll come around. They always do," Ramsay resolved, pleasant smile curling his lips as he looked at Michelle quite intently. "Dawn did."

Michelle could feel her eyes widen at the mention of Dawn and she could barely hold herself back from lunging at him and beating the shit out of him. She didn't care if it would've gotten her killed for it. Just the way he said Dawn's name and what he implied-

"She would _never_ ," Michelle seethed, the anger and resentment and frustration incredibly crystal clear in her tone. " _She wouldn't-!_ "

Negan scoffed a bit, "Oho, Michelle, now _hold on_ just a gosh darn lil' second, I thought you two were close? Like two peas in a pod? And here I was under the **mighty** impression you would've had a guess at how she handled this whole thing already! **_Damn_ ** was I wrong!"

They had to be messing with her. There was no way… Michelle didn't even want to expand on that thought. She didn't want to consider the scenario in which neither of them were bullshitting her on this. They were disgusting and vile, cheap and lying; they were just trying to get under her skin.

 _Too bad it was working._

" _Ooh_ ," Ramsay was cringing, his expression obviously exaggerated as he gave an awkward smile only for Michelle's sake. "Now that's just awkward."

"Guess you don't know her as well as you thought you did," Negan was smiling still and Michelle wanted to knock out every last one of his fucking stupid perfect teeth. "Because let me tell you, she is one of my absolute _favorite_ wives." Negan was sauntering closer, bending forward and leaning in towards Michelle as he whispered in a disturbing facetious voice, "And between you and me, she just absolutely **_adores_** the fuck outta me."

Michelle wouldn't accept it. She **couldn't.** They were planting poisonous seeds of thoughts in her head that she knew would fester, but she wouldn't accept it no matter how much her brain toyed with the idea of its truth. She would wait to talk to Dawn about it and that kept her resolve from crumbling into nothingness at that very moment.

"Ramsay!" Negan was starting very suddenly with the stomp of his boot on the floor, not allowing his previous words to linger long before he was standing straight and turning to face the other man. "Closing time. Get on that shit faster than a cheap whore. I don't want Kate **_OR_ ** Theon out there by themselves; damn kids might set my whole restaurant on fire."

Ramsay finally tore his eyes away from Michelle to look to Negan as he smiled quite politely before nodding, "Of course."

And just like that, he was leaving, the door shutting noisily behind him.

She was left alone with Negan, much to her dismay. And she was trying _very_ hard not to think about this new information on Dawn. Also trying not to think about how she'd much rather deal with Negan than Ramsay.

Negan stood there a moment longer before he was reaching into his jacket, Michelle watching on in uncertain curiosity as he pulled out a red rag. He moved over to the sink at the other corner of the room, running the water as he stepped up to it.

"Did he hurt you?" Negan asked, his voice almost flat.

Michelle swallowed as she muttered, "Why would you care?"

" ** _Hey_** ," Negan quickly and strongly followed, putting the rag into the rushing water and soaking it. "Stop givin' me the strong Mary Sue act for five fuckin' minutes and answer the damn question."

Michelle's wrists throbbed as she thought of them. "Just my wrists… I don't see why it matters or why you care."

Nothing but the sound of the running water filled the small room before he was turning it off and wringing the material of excess water. He turned, moving over and settling onto the bed before her. Michelle scoot back just slightly at the advancement.

"C'mon, give me one of your wrists," he asked quietly, one hand extending out and the other holding the damp rag. When Michelle didn't move, he flexed his fingers impatiently with a sigh. "I already told you I'm not gonna hurt you, so stop pissin' your pants about it. Cards were all out on the table the moment you woke up."

Michelle considered that for several moments. He had a point. He told her he wasn't going to harm or lay a hand on her, and he still hadn't. But it hadn't even been a full day, she realized. There was still time for him to go back on that. Yet the way he watched her told her that he was being quite sincere. Which was mind boggling to her.

She still hesitated, moving carefully to reach her hand out to him but stopping short. Negan stretched his fingers out a bit more, "If I wanted to hurt you then _trust me_ , I would've already done it about ten times over by now. And **THEN** some. Probably."

Taking a deep breath, Michelle decided against her better judgement and pressed her hand into his. His hands were large and strong; they felt like they could crush every bone in her fingers with one swift movement of his own. But he was surprisingly gentle as he used his other hand to wrap the cool rag around her bruised and red and swollen wrist. She hissed in pain as he dabbed it at different parts, the coolness of the rag quite satisfying to the burning blemish.

" _There_ we go," he whispered in a drawn out sight, continuing the soothing movement around her wrist. "That's not so bad, now is it?"

For a man that had kidnapped her and planned to make her one of his wives in his crazy ass dream come to life? It really wasn't so bad. She didn't like indulging him like this. But something told her she'd have to do a _lot_ of that if she ever wanted to get out of here.

It was an oddly calming moment, the terror of the situation still present and making it not as calming as Negan probably would have liked. But it was better than most of the shit she'd been through in the past day. Negan motioned for her other wrist and she complied, expression wincing every so often when he brushed over a particularly painful area.

"Why do any of this?" Michelle found her voice through the silence, though it was rough and sluggish. "And I mean _really._ What's the real reason behind any of this? Or do you just not know?"

Negan was huffing a chuckle, lips pulling over teeth, "Bit of a loaded question to be asking on the second date, don't you think?"

Michelle knew he was joking but if any part of him ever thought this was a date? Her stomach wanted to eject itself into outer space at such a thought.

"But I told you before," he went on, turning the rag over and pressing it softly against her skin. She winced slightly as he looked up at her. "Because you're goddamn gorgeous."

Michelle could feel her eyebrows pulling together. There had to be more to it than _just_ that, right? It had to go deeper than just the looks. Negan seemed to be quite the materialistic and only skin deep sort of man, but it rubbed her the wrong way. Like there was more he wasn't telling her. And that only worked to frustrate her.

As Michelle's thoughts lingered on it, Negan was pulling the rag away, turning back somewhat to pull the tray of food closer to Michelle, "Here. You need to eat. Can't let a damn fine burger like that go to waste."

Her eyes turned down to the food, her lips pursing tightly before she was returning her gaze to Negan, "You said this place was temporary… What did you mean by that?"

He was still smiling and he chuckled, "Man, you _really_ are a woman of many questions, aren't you? Maybe if you keep up your good behavior you'll get an answer to that one."

"How long do I have to wait?"

Negan was snorting, "I don't fuckin' know, I'm not a goddamn psychic. Do you see a crystal ball anywhere? I can't tell the future. How long depends a lot upon you and how ready I think you are."

So that just proved all the more that she really had to comply; grin and bear it, fake it till you make it. Negan seemed satisfied enough with the conversation coming to an end there, standing before shoving a hand back into one of his pockets.

"I'll be back first thing in the morning to check on you," Negan went on, nonchalant as if it were all incredibly mundane and normal. "Until then- tata."

And Michelle was left alone once more. To a plate of food she felt too sick to eat and to a bed so foreign and wrong she might as well have slept on the tile floor. But she had been putting off eating and sleeping for too long and her body was beginning to severely complain.

Her food was cold by the time she got around to eating it and she was sure she wouldn't get much sleep before Negan came around again. But it wasn't like a lack of sleep would be the worst thing to happen within these four walls. _No._ She was certain much, _much_ worse things were to come.


	14. Part 14

The door to Michelle's temporary home was loud. But apparently it hadn't been loud enough to wake her. She was dreaming, she was sure, because she was suddenly back at home, which felt foreign and wrong all at once. Dawn had just finished up her last calls for the day and Tenth had phoned ahead, telling her that he was on his way with takeout from the Italian place they still hadn't tried.

For some odd reason, Dawn's parents were there too, on the couch in her living room. But for one moment they were there and then the next, just as Michelle blinked, they were all gone. Dawn was gone. Her parents were gone. Her entire apartment had become barren and empty, like the first day she'd moved into the place.

There was a knock at the door, three raps that were loud and heavy. As she opened the door, there stood Tenth, but he had a knife sticking out of his chest. The blood stain grew larger and larger in her utter horror before he was collapsing, Ramsay with his wicked smile standing behind him. The feeling of a large and strong hand was clasping onto her shoulder. She began to turn back in terror, knowing but denying exactly who it was.

 _"Wake up, darlin',"_ his husky and deep voice whispered. It was Negan, toothy grin and harmful intent in his eyes. _"Time for you to rise and shine."_

She startled awake as she realized all too quickly that the hand upon her in her dream was real. It was on her shoulder and it indeed belonged to Negan.

" _Woah_ , easy there," Negan was urging as he was crouched down next to the bed, a low and deep chuckle playing from his lungs. "You looked like you were having some hell of a dream. Those are the kinda reactions I get when I wake up from nightmares about one of my shithead employees destroying my diner. Scar- **RY** shit, lemme tell you."

Michelle groaned as she sat up more properly, rubbing her face as she did so. It was just a dream. A damn accurate one, but a dream nonetheless. Why did Negan have to be the first thing she saw in the morning? Or was it actually morning? This room really fucked over her internal clock.

She began to stretch as she brushed back her hair, all tousled and a mess of unbrushed tangles. "What time is it?" she muttered, voice still heavy with sleep.

Negan flicked back his jacket sleeve (he was wearing a leather jacket this time as opposed to his cotton one, she noted), squinting at the watch as he read out, "It is, ahhh- four oh'nine in the morning. Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey, all early, bright eyed and bushy tailed you are gonna be, because I am feeling _oh! **So!**_ Generous this morning and I think you're gonna like me quite a bit for it."

That sounded like a stretch but it was too early for her to even begin arguing. She honestly just wanted to sleep for the rest of the day or maybe even the rest of the _week_. Would that be too much to ask for really? Apparently for Negan it was.

Sighing, Michelle pushed the covers off of herself as Negan stood, stepping out of the bed and watching as he began to walk off. She was, to say the very least, _quite_ confused. What the hell was he talking about? And, for once, why wasn't he going on and on about it?

Negan stopped at the foot of the stairs, turning back to look Michelle's way. He raised his eyebrows as he realized she wasn't following. He sighed, stepping closer to her once more.

"Look, I'm gonna take you back to my place to let you take a shower and get a change of clothes," he explained quite quickly. "Unless you wanna stay here in the same damn clothes for days and days on end without showering and just sit there, fuckin' moping and sobbing in your own stank. I said I was no psychic with a crystal ball but I think I've had enough wives to know none of you ladies like to be dirty."

Michelle's eyes were narrowing as she crossed her arms in uncertainty, "That sounds like you're taking a risk. How do you know I won't just try to run away? Or scream once we get out of this room?"

Slowly but surely, a grin was pulling at Negan's lips as he leaned closer, Michelle tensing up just a bit as he did so. His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, "Just the very fact that you brought that up? Tells me I _know_ you won't do that kinda shit. And here's the real shitkicker part of the deal: all I gotta do is give the word to Ramsay and he'd make sure Dawn would get the short end of the stick. You act up, you act out, you act **_ANY_ ** other way than what you **should** , you can be damn certain there'll be some consequences and lemme tell ya…"

Negan leaned even closer, so close Michelle could feel the heat from his quiet breath rolling over her and making her shiver, "It _will not_ be in the least little tiny itty **bit** pleasant for her. I know that's a mighty hard, big, _nasty_ , and **gross** ass pill to swallow, but swallow it _you will_."

The air felt tense and deadly, the small smile on Negan's lips crooked and dangerous. He continued to watch her, her hands beginning to shake as she tried to still them. It was far too early for this. Couldn't he at least wait until it was a decent hour to terrorize her like this? Maybe she was still dreaming. She could only hope.

"Now c'mon," he was finally leaning back, seemingly satisfied with his little speech instilling the proper fear into her. "We gotta be there and back real quick. We start opening in a couple hours."

Without a word, Michelle followed him, as silent as death itself. Now that Dawn's safety was hanging over her head like this, she wouldn't and couldn't risk doing anything Negan wouldn't like. And damn if that didn't just make everything much more painful.

Several quiet beeps filled the air as Negan input the code for the door, so quiet that Michelle hadn't noticed them until he was inputting the last two digits. And she didn't even see it, his body obscuring it as it was. Of course.

To say it was weird being in the back of Lucille's would be the biggest understatement of her entire life. It was weird and surreal and _then_ some, seeing everything in its familiar layout. It felt as though everything should've been so different, mostly because of how life changing recent events had been. But alas, nothing had changed. The world kept on spinning, some people probably didn't even care or weren't even wiser to the fact that she was currently being held hostage.

"Has my face shown up on the news yet?" Michelle muttered quietly, a careful and controlled spite deep within the words.

Negan continued to lead her, making his way more toward the back than the front- of _course_ he would take her out the back. Only made sense.

Negan chuckled, his tone playful and oddly out of place following her venomous jab of words, " _Why_ , hopin' you'll get your five seconds of fame on TV?"

Michelle's face was curling into something like disgust, the edge in her voice growing slightly stronger, "No, more like hoping that people start to piece together you two are behind all this and, _I dunno_ , start taking it more seriously."

"The police here are idiots," Negan waved away her words as they came to the backdoor, pushing through it without hesitating for a moment. "You'd be surprised how easy it is to hide shit from them in this city."

It was cold and dark outside, the morning sun not even peeking over the horizon just yet. Michelle shivered as she remembered she didn't have shoes on nor a jacket. Thanks for that, Ramsay, you _bastard._

" _What_ ," Michelle began pointedly, holding her arms closely to her chest for warmth, "like you guys so cleverly hid Dawn's car?"

Suddenly, they both came to a stop at a black classic mustang. The exterior looked like it belonged in an era past yet it looked extremely well taken care of. Obviously Negan had poured some money into this vehicle.

Negan was turning, snorting before he was chuckling in quite the amused manner, "Ooh, watch it there Michelle, that tongue of your is feisty, and don't get me fuckin' wrong, I like it, I really like it, but there's a time and a place, and trust me, _this_. _Is not._ _One of 'em._ Kapeesh?"

She was doing her best to keep herself from shivering, her pajama pants and short sleeved shirt really not cutting it for this colder weather. But she just remained stoic, hard gaze not wavering for a second from him.

Negan sighed heavily, "Ahh shit, you're probably freezing. It's cold as balls out. Here."

Pausing, Negan removed his jacket, towering over her for a moment as he swung the leather jacket behind her and draped it over her shoulders. Michelle could feel herself tensing up for a moment before she realized he was doing that and only that. She watched him carefully as he pulled it around her, the size of it practically swallowing her in its warmth. The heat of his own body lingered within.

"What? Like I'd let my beautiful wife-to-be freeze? Fuck, I'm not _that_ heartless. And who said I wasn't a stand up guy, huh?" He quipped as he moved to open the passenger door for her and really, she had no choice but to slide in, the car door slamming shut after her.

The car was just as cold, if not colder, thanks to the leather upholstery. It smelled of something between a very used car freshener and leather polish; it wasn't the most pleasant of smells but somehow it matched Negan in its entirety. It _reeked_ of him. So many thoughts of rebellion ran through her mind right then. The need to just run, to just get away, sprint screaming into the streets of Chicago was all too tempting. Had Negan not threatened Dawn over her _'disobedience'_ she probably would have just risked it and ran.

She looked over to the side, catching a glimpse of the street beyond the small alleyway behind the diner. A couple cars passed before Negan was sliding in and it made her wonder: how many times had she just driven by someone in desperate need of help without her knowing it? She shuddered to think about it much.

Negan was quickly pressing a key into the ignition, the engine revving in a strong roar as it came to life. Immediately, a blast of cool air was filling the car before Negan adjusted the settings, turning it down.

"We probably won't have heat by the time we get to my place," he commented as he began to pull out before putting the car back into drive and heading down the alleyway. "This baby's incredible but it's a pretty short ass drive. Sorry 'bout it; you'll just have to deal with the jacket. Wish I could help ya more."

Michelle didn't bother responding to his fake concern, simply gazing as the world passed. It was an odd feeling, being in this car and watching the city slip by her. She'd been down this road many times before but every time, she didn't feel so trapped. To have freedom just inches away was torturous, bitter, and it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Negan wasn't lying when he said it would be a short drive. Before ten minutes had even passed, he was turning down a street with several thin houses lining each side of the road. It was a neighborhood she had never been into and, if she was being honest, it looked so wrong for Negan to be pulling up to a beige, two-story house between two red brick houses. He put the car into park before turning it off.

"You live here?" Michelle was asking quietly as she took in the sight of the house in what little light there was. It looked so normal. So quaint. Here she'd been expecting him to be living in some run down and creepy place, not this normal and almost suburban looking home. It felt _wrong_.

Negan was scoffing as he turned to her, one hand still on the steering wheel, "It's just _one_ of my places. Pit stop sorta place."

Her brows were crawling up her forehead as she opened her mouth to question that further when he was unbuckling himself and getting out of the car, coming around to her side. Her mind turned over the new information again and again as he opened her door and led her inside. Just _one_ of his places? One out of how many?

Of course he would have multiple places. Why was she surprised a serial kidnapper had more than one house? He was an owner of a relatively well off diner, after all. So that must've meant Dawn was somewhere in however many homes he owned. She didn't want her thoughts to linger on it, not wanting to think if Dawn was trapped in some place worse than this.

Or maybe she wasn't trapped, if what Negan and Ramsay implied were anything to go by…

 ** _No._** She shoved the thoughts away, now looking around the entryway as Negan closed the red door behind them and locking it.

"Come on, bathroom and bedroom with spare clothes is upstairs," he motioned for her to go up the narrow stairs just to the left of the entryway. "Like I said, we gotta make this a quickie. Not _that_ kinda quickie but if you're up for that, trust me, I will not complain one single bit."

Michelle shifted at the gross comment before she was sighing and making her way up the stairs. As she came to the top, he directed her to the door directly across from the landing of the stairs, the door already ajar. How many women had he done this same exact ritual with? How used to the motions of this act was he? Did he do this with Dawn?

 _No. Stop. **Stop** thinking about it,_ she urged herself. She had to just get this over with.

The room she stepped into looked like a normal bedroom. Quite clean and smelled faintly of fresh linen. In fact, it reminded her, in a lot of ways, of her bedroom back home. Not a pleasant reminder, that one.

"Bathroom's _riiight_ over there, darlin'," he motioned to the open door, the room beyond dark. "And I will be waiting right! _Here!_ On this very bed. Unless you want me to join you. Just say those magic words and you'll have the best damn shower buddy you could **ever** want or need."

Michelle finally looked over to him, his grin playful and suggestive. She found herself grimacing as she removed his jacket before shoving it at him, no longer wanting the gross smell of him anywhere near her.

" _No_ ," Michelle stated firmly, glaring his way. "Don't come near me."

As he caught his jacket, he sighed quite overdramatically as he tossed the leather garment onto the bed, flopping himself down onto it just a moment later. " _Damn_ , Michelle, you are just so cold to my modest advances," he mused in a mockingly hurt tone, pressing both his hands behind his head in support. He grinned. "That's fine, though. I _like_ hard to get. I like chasin' you down, wearin' you out. You'll come around eventually."

Not wanting to look at his smug face any longer, Michelle was pressing forward into the bathroom and closing the door behind her. She promptly locked it, grateful for the momentary separation from him. Although he was just beyond that door, it was easy enough to fool herself into thinking he was nowhere near her. The bathroom being as foreign as it was certainly helped, no doubt.

It held a theme of whites and light purples and distantly Michelle had to wonder just who decorated this place. It certainly couldn't have been Negan. There were so many questions rolling around in her mind, it almost made it incredibly difficult to focus on anything at all.

As she caught a glimpse of herself in the small mirror adorning the white tiled wall, she felt like she couldn't even recognize herself anymore. She looked beyond tired and exhausted, the mark where Ramsay had struck her still visible as it looked to be bruising. She brought up her hands, looking to the ugly rings marring her wrists and she swallowed dryly. She didn't want to look at herself anymore.

Michelle was quick to strip her clothes, swiftly figuring out the shower controls and setting the temperature quite warm. The water was soothing, the spray from the shower head not too little and not too much. It was refreshing and she just let herself focus on the sensations. The soaps were all varying scents of lilacs and peaches, a welcome scent that relaxed her somewhat.

She wanted to stay in this shower forever, hoping that maybe she could just disappear into the confines of the water. Hoping against everything. As futile as it would be, she allowed herself to find a small bit of solace in the act of cleaning herself. Yet her brain reminded her that hoping she could stay here forever was pointless. She knew that wouldn't happen. And she couldn't put off getting out any longer, her fingertips already beginning to feel as though they were turning into prunes.

With some reluctance, she got out of the shower, drying herself and her hair off with the white towels on the nearby rack and donning her previous clothes. She didn't like the feeling of putting the same exact clothes on but she was sure as shit not going out there with just a towel on. No way in hell.

Slowly, she opened the door, peeking out to see Negan exactly where he'd promised he'd be: lounging on the bed. And he was grinning. Why did he grin so much? It set her on edge every time she saw it.

"All nice and squeaky clean, huh?" he quipped as he sat up more properly, motioning with his hand for her to come closer. "C'mere. I've got a surprise for you."

Somehow she was incredibly certain she wasn't going to like this surprise. But she had to remind herself that he promised he wouldn't harm her. So maybe it wouldn't be so bad. And to that she had to mentally berate herself; she was trusting the promise of a low scumbag such as him. She filed that one away for more berating later on.

With a deep breath, she was stepping out of the bathroom, the cooler air of the bedroom hitting her and making her shiver slightly. She watched him carefully, one hand grasping onto the elbow of her other arm in uncertainty. He was standing and moving away from the bed, stepping over to the nearby armoire and pulling out one of the drawers.

Michelle stood there awkwardly, watching in both careful curiosity and trepidation before he was pulling out a black garment. She couldn't make it out until he was unfurling it, revealing a black dress. It looked as though it would stop just above her knees, the straps slightly wide and the top cutting down relatively low. She eyed it with some disinterest, realizing this is what he considered a _'surprise'_. She could not have been any less surprised even if she tried.

"I want you to try it on," Negan went on, stepping closer to her and offering it out to her, teeth shining over lips. "Come on. It'll look _damn_ good on you."

When Michelle didn't make a move to take it, only flickering her eyes from the dress up to him, Negan was pushing it closer to her, "Do it for me."

Never, in a million years, would she do **_anything_ ** for him. No. She was doing all of this for Dawn. And that's how it would stay. But she would _let_ him think what he liked and if it made him happy, then so be it. She reached forward and grabbed the dress, quickly realizing that the front facing materials were made out of some faux leather. She didn't want to think just how much it would match Negan.

"I'm not changing while you watch," she commented firmly, moving back into the bathroom before he could even say otherwise.

Negan chuckled lowly, bringing his hands up in some kind of playful defeat before she was closing the door, "No problem, no problem. Wouldn't want to make the lady _uncomfortable_ now."

Michelle could laugh for hours on end about that one. She was certain she'd never heard a funnier joke in her entire life. But she kept that bit to herself, locking the door as she did so.

The dress fit pretty nicely, she was quickly realizing as she flattened it and tugged it down more. She was right about the bottom and top; it stopped an inch or two above her knees and cut down quite low to be a little more revealing of her chest than she'd like around Negan. It felt like a pretty expensive dress, if she was being honest. There was no way it had just been laying around either. She was more than a hundred percent certain he bought this dress _just_ for her sake.

She sighed as she looked herself in the mirror. No makeup, bruises on her cheek and wrists, dark circles under her eyes, and hair damp and incredibly flat, she looked far from okay. She looked _miserable._ But she didn't care anymore. It was better to just get this over with.

Taking a slow breath, she unlocked the door, hesitating as she wrapped her fingers around the doorknob. Fake it till you make it. It was going to be okay. She gathered her resolve and opened the door, stepping back into the room where Negan was awaiting.

Nothing but silence passed over his parted lips as his dark eyes drank in the sight of her, dragging his gaze from top to bottom and back up again. She felt oddly exposed when he did that and she found herself biting at her lip and looking away.

" _Damn_ …" he finally breathed, the reaction sounding more genuine than she'd ever heard from him. "You are absolutely, _goddamn_ , without a fuckin' doubt, so fuckity fuckin' **gorgeous.** "

Maybe someone would have enjoyed such a colorful compliment. But not her. She continued to look away, trying to be anywhere but here. Silence consumed the room once more before she could hear him shuffling closer, his heavy footsteps stopping quite close.

The feeling of one of his large hands coming up and his fingertips brushing over her soft cheek made her flinch slightly, although she wasn't sure _why_ she would've been surprised by such an action. She still didn't look his way, trying so very hard to pretend he wasn't there.

" _Hey.._ " he muttered, voice now a whisper. It grew in volume just slightly, his voice husky like sandpaper. "Look at me. Show me those big, beautiful eyes."

Her lips pressed tighter together for just a moment before she was finally complying, turning to look up at him. With him being as close as he was, she felt like he towered over her, his presence alone so overbearing and his eyes locking onto hers, leaving her feeling so very, _very_ small. Like he could just reach forward and break her down into nothingness in a single instant. It was terrifying.

The sensation of his fingers brushing back her damp hair with gentle and careful motions betrayed his overall huge presence, making for such a conflicting range of emotions. She wanted to scream at him, she wanted to cry, she wanted to run away, she wanted to stay nailed in place. Why wasn't he just doing something to her already? She felt like it'd be easier that way. But instead he did all these soothing and gentle brushes of fingers and it made her **_sick._**

Negan was leaning in, eyes flickering from her own hues down to her lips, his voice still barely breaching a whisper, "You don't gotta be scared around me, you know that?"

No, she absolutely **had** to be scared around him. She had no choice but to be scared around him. What else did he expect?

" _I'm not scared_ ," Michelle lied, voice threatening to crack in the resolve she'd tried to build up. She just barely stopped herself from shaking.

Negan's smile widened at that, the breath of his chuckle gliding over her lips, "You're a godawful liar. But it's okay. You'll mean it soon enough."

And not another moment passed before he was pressing his lips flush against hers. Michelle was closing her eyes, trying to transport herself to a better and different place. Somewhere with Tenth. Somewhere where these lips against hers were Tenth's and not Negan's. Where she felt safe and not about to break down into hysteric tears.

Negan was moving his lips deeper against hers, pressing into the kiss as he tasted her lips and his hand pressed flush against her cheek. Pretend it was Tenth. _Pretend it was Tenth._ Just throw everything out of her mind about her situation and this house and the man towering before her, and pretend it was Tenth. And so she did, fooling herself for the short moments following as he was suckling her lips into his own, the salt and pepper stubble on his face tickling her skin.

Distantly, Michelle was aware of his thumb brushing over the bruise on her cheek in soft and not painful waves before he was finally pulling away, their lips sticking together for just a second more before separating.

" _Shit_ …" he was sighing, his low voice still so genuine. It took her a moment more before she was opening her eyes, watching him as he watched her right back, eyes flitting over her features. "Not so bad, huh?"

The taste of him was on her lips, seeping into her mouth and she hated that it wasn't as terrible as it should've been. It should've tasted like poison but it just tasted so- _normal_. Maybe the distant hint of mint. She hated it.

" _Why won't you just hurt me already?_ "

The question seemed to catch both Negan and Michelle off guard, even though Michelle was the one that had asked that. Her brows were pulling together in a complicated expression, begging for tears to come to her eyes but there was nothing. She was distantly aware that her words were broken and shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

"Thought I told you," Negan began to respond quietly, pulling back only slightly, his hand still remaining on her cheek. "I'm _never_ gonna hurt you. Shit don't work like that for me. Shit never _will_ work like that, not for one goddamn second. I will never force myself on you, never leave a mark on you. I'm not the monster you think I am and if you believe that I'm lying, you are so severely mistaken, it's not even fuckin' funny."

Her eyes studied him carefully, trying to find any kind of hints of betrayal in those words, but she couldn't find anything. He wasn't even smiling, his expression incredibly serious and even _sincere_ in some regards. As serious and sincere as Negan could get, anyway. It lasted just mere seconds before the corners of his lips were tugging up just slightly.

"Hating me isn't gonna be as easy as you want it to be, sweetheart," he added, his voice above a whisper now. His smile grew, teeth peeking just beyond his spreading lips. "No. Not by a _damn_ long shot."


	15. Part 15

The following hours had passed by in relative peace. As peaceful as it could get being held hostage in some twisted ploy to be shaped into Negan's idea of a _'perfect'_ wife, anyhow. Negan had allowed Michelle to choose several different outfits to take back to the diner; a few long sleeved shirts, a handful of jeans, a black jacket, and he even gave her some socks and shoes. It baffled her by how many women's clothing he had stored away at that house. But then again, maybe it _shouldn't_ have. Not with how he seemed to flaunt the fact that he had multiple wives.

They'd made it back to the diner just as the sun was shining its first rays on the sleepy city and she was nestled deep within the confines of the hidden room beneath the freezer by the time they'd begun to open. Negan took it upon himself to kiss her yet again before he left her to herself, the motion not as slow and careful as the first time. Just a peck and he was gone, promising that he'd drop by later on in the day.

Michelle ate the food he'd brought down with them and she had decided to just go back to sleep, more exhausted than ever after that little visit to the house. She could barely quell all the raging emotions she had within her, the conflicting and angry thoughts running through her brain making it almost impossible to fall asleep. But she finally did. _Somehow_.

Thankfully there were no more dreams this time. And she was even more thankful that she woke up to an empty room. No one had come to bother her, however long she had slept. She finally felt as though she'd gotten enough sleep but that didn't stop her from feeling mentally and emotionally exhausted. Nothing could cure that and she was sure she'd feel it for the rest of her life at this rate.

She finally decided to pick up one of the many books on the floor where Ramsay had left them. Turning the small novel over, the title read: _Lord of the Flies._ She remembered having to read this book back in high school and, as with everything in high school, she'd forgotten most of what it entailed. The basic gist was easy enough to remember and she remembered that she'd actually liked the book, but other than that it was blank. So she thought to herself: why not? And opened the book to begin reading it.

It wasn't as though she had much of anything else to do as it was.

Michelle had just made it to chapter two when the familiar sound of the door was filling the room. Slowly, she looked up from the book, seeing Ramsay as he was making his way into the room with a tray of what looked to be her usual order. She sighed quietly to herself, setting the book face down on the bed.

"Did you sleep well?" Ramsay was asking pleasantly as he placed the food at the bottom of the bed. "Negan told me he took you to get a shower and change of clothes this morning. He doesn't usually do that so quickly."

Michelle was scowling slightly up at him, "I feel _so_ special. **Thanks.** "

A careful laugh was breaking through Ramsay's smiling lips as he shook his head, "Don't you ever get tired of being so sarcastic?"

"No, I usually get way more tired of _you_ first," Michelle shot back, the words escaping her mouth before she could stop them. She was suddenly regretting them as Ramsay began to move closer. Why did her mouth have to have a mind of its own sometimes?

"Oh _come on_ now," Ramsay was sighing as he settled onto the bed next to her, smile still just barely hanging onto his lips. "Surely you don't mean that."

She didn't let her mouth open this time, fearing that saying anything more toward him would earn her another fresh bruise or two. So she remained stoic, watching him carefully.

Suddenly, his eyebrows were flying up as a thought hit him, " _Oh!_ Right! I've been meaning to show you something so incredibly important!"

Now she was growing even more uncomfortable and scared. What could he possibly look so excited to show her? And why was it so important?

She watched as anxious and grueling seconds passed, his hand reaching into the pocket of his dark jeans to pull out a phone. His phone? It must've been. He unlocked it and began sifting through it.

"You know, Dawn was really so incredibly cooperative with the entire process," he went on as if what he was saying wasn't completely fucked up. "She was even so eager to please at some points! I think you'd do well to take a few pointers from her. Here, look at these wonderful pictures!"

The screen of his phone was facing her as he grinned and the sight before Michelle's eyes shocked her beyond anything she could've anticipated. On the phone was a picture of Dawn, topless on this very bed.

"This was a day before she became Negan's wife," Ramsay explained, his voice so incredibly nonchalant it baffled her. Before she could study the picture in anymore depth, he slid his finger across the screen, Dawn in this one as well. She was bare of any clothing, posing quite lewdly. Michelle could feel her hands shaking as they formed into fists.

"Believe it or not, she loved taking these pictures," Ramsay went on still, swiping to reveal even _more_ indecent and lascivious photos, the next seemingly worse than the last. " **Encouraged** it, even! She was so eager."

Michelle couldn't look at her best friend like that anymore. She couldn't, she didn't even want to **_think_ ** about how those pictures were taken exactly where she was sitting now. _She wouldn't._ Immediately, her head was jerking away and eyes tightly screwing shut. The images were burned into her mind and she just wanted them gone. Anger seeped into her mind as tears burned her eyes.

The sudden and digging feeling of Ramsay's fingers were on her jaw as he forced her to look ahead once more caught her attention, the sound of a video beginning to play from his phone, "Don't look away _now_ , Michelle, we're just getting to the good part!"

The noises coming from the phone weren't pleasant- she could hear Dawn's voice as she was moaning, followed by lows growls that she could only place belonging to Ramsay himself. She refused to open her eyes, Ramsay's fingers pressing harder against her skin.

" _Look at the video, Michelle,_ " he urged quietly. And when she didn't respond, his voice was raising and it was absolutely terrifying. " **Open your eyes!** "

Michelle could feel her entire body shaking as she forced her eyes open, the sight before her blurred by the tears in her eyes, but she could see what was happening in the video well enough. Ramsay was on top of Dawn, in full and plain and nude view, and he was… _He was…_

It wasn't hard to tell Ramsay was grinning as he spoke, "Dawn was so, _so_ good. Nice and tight. Absolutely beautiful. One hell of a fuck."

Anger overwhelmed Michelle in every one of her senses, one of her hands coming up to hit the phone out of Ramsay's hand. It immediately clattered to the floor, the video continuing on as it laid there. Even after she fully realized what she had just done, she didn't regret it, glaring venomous daggers into him as his smile fell before he moved to retrieve the phone from the ground.

"You cracked my screen," he said slowly, placing the phone at the end of the bed near the tray of untouched food. He continued to let the video play, letting the lewd noises of sex fill the air as he shifted closer. "And that's just something that can't go unpunished."

With one swift movement, Ramsay had his hands around her neck, gripping tightly as he forced her closer to his face. She couldn't breathe for a split moment as his thumbs were pressing down roughly onto her windpipe. She gasped, getting nothing, and tears flowed freely from her eyes.

Was she going to die? Was Ramsay just going to kill her right here and now? Panic began to erupt throughout her mind, her vision experiencing odd lights as she still had no oxygen. Instinctively, she was reaching forward, his body just close enough, she was able to dig her fingernails into the side of his neck and drag through the flesh. He winced quite audibly as she could feel blood beneath her nails and he finally allowed her to breathe again.

His grip on her neck didn't disappear completely, however. He forced her closer to him, his expression one of barely concealed rage.

"You are _so_. _Incredibly_. **_Lucky_**. That I can't do _more_ to you," he growled, voice low and dangerous and seeping through tightly clenched teeth. His eyes were daggers made out of ice as he glared at her. "If not for Negan, I would have just _ripped_ every inch of clothing off of you and taken you right here. Made sure it hurt you. And I would have loved _**every** _ last second of it."

The thought of begging came to Michelle's mind, but she would resist it. Even if he could just kill her right here, she wouldn't resort to begging. Ramsay didn't deserve that. She wouldn't give him the pleasure. She instead she just gasped for breath, filling up her lungs several times before she was speaking quietly and hoarsely.

" _Negan's **bitch**_ ," she spat angrily, narrowing her eyes at him and giving him the best damn dangerous stare she could.

A renewed anger spilled through his expression as he was bringing a hand back and slamming it right across the other cheek that had yet to be marred. Until now. She cried out in pain before Ramsay was letting go of her. She dropped back down onto the bed, holding her now incredibly tender throat in one hand, coughing and trying to regain any breath she lost prior. It felt as though every muscle in her body was shaking.

"I'm done with you for the day," Ramsay huffed, reaching over and grabbing his phone. He stopped the video, thankfully, and pocketed his phone again. "Seems I'll have to get a new phone, thanks to you. _Enjoy your meal._ "

And with that, he was finally walking off, the door slamming shut behind him. She was alone once more but she was certainly worse for wear. Her throat and face hurt like hell. In fact, she was almost certain he'd come inches away from crushing her windpipe. And after seeing those pictures and that video, maybe it would've been better had he done just that.

No. She couldn't think like that. If anything, those pictures and that video proved to her she had to make it through all of this to make it back to Dawn. She didn't want to recall anything she had just seen, but none of it looked- unwilling. It looked all too consensual. And perhaps that was what hurt most. It made her wonder if maybe Negan and Ramsay hadn't been lying in the first place when they told her about Dawn's willingness.

That _wasn't_ the Dawn she knew, though. Not by a long shot. There had to be some influence from the two men for her to ever agree to those things. She had to believe that. She absolutely had to otherwise she wasn't sure she could have the hope to someday get out of this whole situation and back to Tenth.

Michelle wiped her tears on the beige long sleeved shirt she wore, trying to compose herself as much as she could. She had no idea when either of them would come back in here and she needed to be as strong as possible. But it was hard. _It was so damn hard._

Eating the food ached. Her throat had really suffered some bruising and swallowing was difficult. The heat of the coffee helped just slightly but definitely not by much. She'd almost wished she hadn't eaten in the first place, however, because now she felt sick. Every time she allowed her thoughts to wander, there were those pictures. There was that video. There were the sounds.

And she knew it would haunt her for the rest of her days in this hellhole.

Michelle must have fallen asleep at some point while reading more Lord of the Flies. Because the next thing she realized was Negan standing beside her bed and shaking her awake. Two times now she'd woken up to him. And she didn't even want to start getting used to that.

" _Fuckin' Christ_ ," Negan hissed, reaching forward to softly brush his fingers over her neck. She flinched back slightly at the contact, but remained still nonetheless. "Ramsay told me there'd been some sort of disobeyin' going on and you really scratched the hell out of his neck. You've gotta cut that crap out, Michelle. He's making quite the lil' mess of you."

She sighed as Negan sat down on the bed next to her and she was curling her legs up into herself in a small effort to keep as much distance between him and herself, " _Maybe you should tell him to stop hurting me, then._ "

Negan huffed a chuckle as he brought up a small dark laptop onto his lap, "I can't help it if he's just doing what comes naturally to him, _especially_ when you're trying to play hero and provoking him."

"He showed me pictures and a video of Dawn, how was I _not_ supposed to-"

Negan cut her off as he brought up a hand, "No, no, nope, **nuh-uh** , don't wanna hear it. Excuses are somethin' of a _HUGE_ ass no-no around here. Own up to your mistakes. Jesus, didn't your parents ever teach you to take some responsibility for your actions?"

" _Don't patronize me_ ," Michelle bit back, growing even more frustrated. "Don't lecture me like I'm some **_child_**."

Negan's eyebrows were rising, " _Shit!_ Ramsay wasn't kidding when he said you were **EXTRA** spicy today! Hot damn. I gotta know though: are you just as spicy _under_ the sheets? Because I think that's a pretty vital little piece of information that is on a need-to-know basis. And believe me, I _need_ to know that kinda shit."

She was fuming. But she knew she needed to tone it down. She had to keep in mind that the more she tried to rebel like this, the longer she would be stuck here. So deep breaths, in and out, and look away. She did just that, leaving Negan with nothing but silence.

"Alright, _alright_ ," Negan settled with a low chuckle. "Feisty to silent in just seconds. That's just fine."

The sound of Negan sighing loudly and with exaggeration filled the air before he was kicking off his boots and settling further back onto the bed. She watched him curiously, not understanding just what he was doing. He promptly opened the laptop, typing a password into it and unlocking it.

"What are you doing..?" Michelle found herself asking quietly, uncertain if she should've even asked to begin with. He wasn't planning to stay here long, was he?

He turned a smile her way, "Thought you might be pretty bored. Books and sudoku are one thing but Netflix is a whole other world of better shit. Plus I don't much feel like working so consider this me playing hooky and spending time with my beautiful as fuckin' fuck wife-to-be."

 _'I'd much rather read all the books in the world, including the phone book, than sit and watch anything with you'_ , she retorted in her mind. Saying it out loud would probably only make Negan laugh. He seemed to really get off on her saying anything of the sort, so she'd just hold off on it. She remained silent.

"You ever seen Better Call Saul? That's some _good_ shit," Negan remarked, though Michelle couldn't care less. He went on explaining the show she really had _zero_ interest in sitting here and watching with him, but it seemed like he had a different idea.

Even though she said nothing, he started it, settling back. She didn't look at him or the laptop, but just continued to sit at the other end of the bed, legs curled against her chest. It was so jarring how _different_ yet how the _same_ both Ramsay and Negan were. Ramsay always seemed to rough her up and there came Negan, all smiles and attempts to soothe her and full of bullshit 'aftercare'. But she knew what they were both going for in the end. They had both orchestrated this entire thing and it made her hope that much more diminished.

Negan gave a sigh after several minutes, motioning for Michelle to move closer to him, "Come closer, at least, I know you can't see shit over there."

When Michelle didn't move, only watched him in silence, he began reaching over, wrapping his fingers around one of her hands and tugging her, "Don't be such a stubborn shit and get the _fuck_ over here."

She resisted for just a moment before giving in, remembering Dawn's safety was on the line, especially when it concerned Negan and _'behaving'_ around him.

So she scoot closer, now just inches apart from him where she stopped. And that was as close as she was going to get.

"Really?" Negan exasperated as he looked over to her. "No cuddling? No snugglin' up together? No touchy feely cutesy couples shit?"

God, she was _so_ uncomfortable right now. And she knew he had to be doing it on purpose. She shifted slightly as she crossed her arms, "Didn't think you were the _type_ for that kind of stuff, honestly…"

He just laughed, "You thought right, I'm not. But I think I could make an exception for you. Somethin' tells me you _are_ that type of gal and I would bet my every last dollar that you miss that sorta shit with your boyfriend. So excuse the _everloving_ fuck outta me for trying to be considerate and make you a little more comfortable."

"You don't care about making me comfortable," Michelle muttered quietly, eyes watching the laptop screen but paying zero attention to what was happening within. " _You don't care at all._ "

"You're **so** convinced of that, aren't you?" Negan replied with a snort, amused smile still strong in his tone. "You hurt me deep, talkin' like I'm so heartless. What have I done to give you such a bad image of me, huh?"

Where to even begin? Kidnapping her best friend, kidnapping _her_ , forcing her to stay in this little room, terrorizing her physically, emotionally, and mentally, and don't even get her started on the whole wives thing. Which brought something else to her mind…

"How many- _wives_ do you even have?" she asked, ignoring his last question completely.

She finally turned her attention over to him, his eyes watching her as he leaned back somewhat. Slowly, his smile grew as he was answering, "I'm sorry, is that a question out of jealousy? Holy goddamn shit, fuck me, _you're jealous!_ "

Michelle could gag at the idea of that, but she kept her composure as best she could, "Not even close. Just answer the question."

Negan's white teeth were biting down onto his lip as his grin played at his mouth, his tongue darting out to drag across his bottom lip as he laughed, "Four. You'll be the wonderful number five."

 _Four wives._ **Four** other women that he'd kidnapped, put through this _entire_ process. And something about that number felt off, like there were so many more he'd taken for himself but had resisted too hard for him to deal with any longer. She could only guess that's where Ramsay came into the picture with his much more violent ways.

"And," Negan went on, unprompted yet proud, "as you might be surprised to find out, they all love the _shit_ outta me. Such a great example for you to follow."

She was sorry she ever asked in the first place. That number just stuck in her head now and she couldn't stop seeing her among four other women, terrorized into pretending to love and adore Negan. To love and adore a sociopath. _And that video-_

"You let Ramsay sleep with your wives?" Michelle was asking, almost wanting to throw up as the words came out.

Negan was still fucking smiling, "Sometimes. I don't mind, they don't mind, so long as they all know just _who_ owns them in the end. Now can we shut the hell up and actually watch this shit? I came back here to chill, not to play a game of twenty fuckin' questions."

Even though Negan wanted to drop the conversation, it left Michelle with a million things running through her mind all at once. The pictures, the video, the number of wives he had, the realization that it would come to the point where both of these men could be inside her at some point- she felt truly and utterly sick to her stomach.

How had it not even been a full two days she'd been here? So much had happened and she'd learned even more than she ever wanted to, it left her mind reeling. But she just remained silent, trying her best to focus on the fictional story being told through the laptop rather than the horrifying and all too real story of her life.


	16. Part 16

Later that night (or at least Michelle could only guess that it was night; the passage of time was difficult to keep track of), Michelle was still trying her damndest to read this stupid book. Lord of the Flies. But she found herself rereading some lines over and over, her mind wandering as her eyes flit across the words, none of the imagery, concept, _or_ story being absorbed. It was hard to keep the earlier events out of the forefront of her mind.

With the burning images of Dawn and the video, Michelle was certain she wasn't going to be able to purge those from her memories any time soon. _And it hurt._ Having to remember those and seeing her best friend that way. It _had_ to be coercion, she was telling herself. She had to have been threatened in some sort of way. There was no way Dawn would agree to that kind of stuff so willingly.

This room was a hellhole that was slowly going to make her go crazy. And she couldn't even imagine how Dawn had handled it. But just- _not like that._ **_Never_ ** like that. Never giving in. _Right?_

Michelle had decided to just give up on reading the book altogether; how could she focus when all these images and thoughts were running rampant through her brain? Her throat ached furiously as she swallowed, wincing as she did so. Her fingers came up to lightly brush at the skin of her neck, lips pursing tightly as she did so.

The following sound of the door opening made her jump, hand pulling away from the bruised flesh. _The whistling._ It was Negan. Soon he was stepping into the room with that disgustingly self satisfied smirk on his face, all cockiness and perfect teeth, a hand jammed into the pocket of his jeans, and his dark eyes immediately zoning in on her in an uncomfortable way.

Michelle could feel her eyes narrowing just slightly his way as he greeted her, "Hi, Michelle."

She said nothing, simply continued to glare his way. He just sighed.

"Y'know, you _gotta_ stop bein' so cold towards me at some point," he mused as he grew closer to her in an assured gait. "I think it'd make everything a whole hell of a lot easier for us both."

Michelle half scoffed, half sighed as she decided to look to the side at the wall, "Easier for you and _only_ you, I think you mean."

Negan chuckled huskily as he came to a stop beside the bed, "You meanin' to tell me that you'd be perfectly content with having your happy ass **permanently** grounded in this boring as shit little place? Because if so, color me absolutely surprised, I never took you for the plain jane, bare necessities type of gal."

After an extended silence, Michelle was finally looking back over to him with a slight hint of defeat in her tone, "What do you want?"

"Well," Negan was sighing deeply, moving to settle onto the edge of the bed, continuing to watch her intently. "I just had myself a hard as shit day, maybe or maybe not involving the police making a visit to hound my ass with question after question-"

" _The police were here?!_ " Michelle could feel her heart jumping up into her throat, her eyes widening as she leaned forward somewhat. "What did they ask you?!"

"Jesus, that is the **_most_ ** reaction I have gotten out of you _yet!_ " Negan was grinning and Michelle just wanted to throw her first right at him. He laughed. " _Damn_ , if only I could get that kinda shit from you all the time. But _nah_ , don't worry, they're not gonna come snooping around and find you; like I said before, the police in this city are dumb as shit."

He said all of that so easily, so smoothly, it was hard to think that he was lying. But she knew Negan well enough by this point he was good at faking, good at masking the truth. And she could only hope that he was masking it here. That maybe the police had caught wind something very, _very_ wrong was happening in this restaurant and Negan and Ramsay were the root of the recent disappearances.

Surely they had to connect the dots somehow, someway. She didn't want to linger on the fact that they were here for the simple reason that Michelle had worked here. But then that brought up a pretty glaring issue that Michelle couldn't really get over.

Michelle's eyebrows were pulling together as she asked, "Wait, don't you think it's _really_ dumb that you guys hired me before kidnapping me?"

That got a pretty decent laugh out of Negan, his laughter tapering out into a chuckle, "Let's just say this is the _challenge_ round. We've been playing it safe for a while now but Ramsay wanted to up the ante this time. When he overheard you'd just gotten laid off, _shit_ , he couldn't wait to get your ass hired. He thought it'd be a better way to keep track of your time without all the usual footwork and I said _why not_ to the crazy mother fucker."

So they were doing this because, **_what?_** They were bored of carefully stalking their targets before taking them? Wanted to _'challenge'_ themselves by taking one of their employees? Just for the hell of it? Michelle both could and couldn't believe what she was hearing. If she allowed it to linger, she knew it would only cause her more and more anger. And anger had gotten her _nowhere_ in this situation.

" _Anyway!_ " Negan boomed as he leaned back somewhat. "Not what I came in here for. I came in here to get to know you a little better, to know what's going on behind the scenes there."

Michelle watched him warily, "Why would I tell you anything?"

Negan smiled wider, "Because I think it'd be in _your_ best interest to, darlin'. Is it so bad that I just wanna have a normal ass conversation about you?"

She allowed his words to turn in her mind for a few moments, weighing the pros and cons of this situation. There was so much she felt that Negan and Ramsay had taken from her, so, _so_ much. Telling him anything more than what he already knew felt like he'd be taking the last remaining bits of her that were, well- _her._

Michelle allowed her body to shift, arms crossing over her chest a bit uncomfortably, "I wouldn't really gain anything out of telling you more about me. I think you know everything you need to know about me as it is."

" _Man_ , you are so **stubborn** ," Negan was sighing, hissing the words quietly. He looked to be biting the inside of his cheek as he seemed to be thinking something over, the silence trickling into the room lasting only a few moments before he came to some kind of conclusion. "How 'bout this. I ask you a question and if I get a straight answer, you can ask me _anything_ in the whole wide, wide wonderful world you like."

Her lips pressed together tightly as she considered this offer. If she had to be honest, it was probably one of the best offers she'd gotten in this whole damn mess. She'd be lying if she said she still didn't have a slew of questions left. And so far, Negan had always been a man of his word.

Michelle opened her mouth but quickly closed it, chewing on her bottom lip for just a moment before she decided, "Okay. Fine."

Suddenly, Negan was clapping his hands together, " _There we fuckin' go!_ A little cooperation and less _'I've got the biggest balls in this room'_ , and boom bam **pow** , lookie there! We're gettin' along like the cute little married couple we'll soon be!"

 _Ignore the last part. **Definitely** ignore the last part,_ Michelle told herself. _Focus on the endgame here._

" _Man_ , where to even begin," Negan mused as he moved farther back onto the bed, making himself much more comfortable as he leaned against the wall with his hands behind his head, very much to Michelle's dismay. "Alright, let's start at the beginning. Where were you born?"

There was nothing stopping her from just bullshitting everything. She could just tell him whatever would come to her mind beyond the truth and they'd both be happy. But something in her gut told her that might end up being a _pretty_ bad idea. Especially if she slipped and forgot what lie she'd spun for him. She never was a good liar anyway.

Sighing in resignation, she answered bluntly, "London."

Negan's brows shot up in slight surprise, " _No shit?!_ "

"My turn," she brushed him off, not at all interested in whatever he had to say next.

"Woah, woah, woah," Negan was cutting in once more. "You can't just drop that shit on me and move on, give me a little more. Like where the **fuck** is your accent?"

Michelle frowned as she glared his way, "That wasn't the deal and you know it. It's my turn to ask you something."

There was no other word to describe Negan's expression rather than _'dejected'_ as he groaned, "Alright, alright, shit. Just gotta leave me on one hell of a fuckin' cliffhanger, don't ya?"

"Where is Dawn?"

Yet again, Negan's smile was returning. That damn smile Michelle was never going to unsee for the rest of her days. He chuckled, "Damn, still on that one, huh? Okay. You've been sitting pretty and patient for a while. She's at one of my places, just outside of town with my other wives."

Something about that made her feel a sense of comfort. It was uneasy, but it was comfort nonetheless. She wasn't alone all day, trapped in some decrepit and derelict place while Negan was at the diner or when he was _'spending time'_ with Michelle. It was horrible that he'd gotten them all put together in a single place like some kind of livestock, but she was among other women with shared experiences. _Maybe_ she felt safe with them. Michelle could only hope.

"So back to the whole London thing," Negan went on without wasting a single second. "Where the actual fuck is your accent?"

Michelle just huffed a humorless laugh, "I didn't _grow up_ there. I was just _born_ there. So my turn: how did Ramsay- take Dawn?"

Negan was shifting to lay more properly on the bed, elbow on the mattress and hand supporting his head as he continued to grin at her, "Dawn this, Dawn that. Shit, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you had a thing for her. Which, y'know, completely and entirely cool as fuck. Wouldn't mind seeing a little wife-on-wife action. In fact that would probably make me very, **VERY** happy, if you catch my drift."

It was hard to resist the urge to smack him right then and there, but she did. Somehow. She settled for a disgusted grimace.

" **Just answer the question** ," Michelle growled, trying her hardest to not show how uncomfortable she was.

"That's a question you're gonna have to save for Ramsay," Negan was pausing to chuckle. "I think he'll give you all the dirty little details and look proud as shit while telling you. Let him brag all about it, make it up to him for scratching the shit outta his neck."

"That's _not_ the deal-" Michelle began impatiently.

"Hey, I'm just trying to tell you where to get the best answer here," he argued with a small shrug of his left shoulder, so nonchalant. " _He_ was there, _he_ did the deed, you're only gonna get the best shit from **_him_ ** on that one."

Maybe he had a point. And that was something Michelle didn't like admitting lightly. It was very much the opposite. She admitted it to herself with reluctance like a hard knot in her throat, impossible to swallow but she finally did, accepting it.

When Michelle didn't continue, Negan did in her stead, "What kinda picturesque little family you got? Is it the kind you'd send Christmas cards around with you all wearing the ugliest sweaters outta the bargain bin? Or is it the kinda family you'd rather shove all the Christmas cards right up their asses?"

Michelle could feel her brows pulling together as she looked away to the material on the walls. She hadn't thought of her family in a long time. It wasn't on purpose by any means. They'd just stopped being such a vital part of her life after she'd moved away from them.

" _Oh man..._ did I just dig my way right into a sensitive subject?" Negan broke the silence with his quiet voice, a silence Michelle hadn't realized she had let fester until now. "Shitty family, huh? Get abused growing up? Locked in the cupboard?"

"No, nothing like that," Michelle finally spoke, still not looking his way. "My family's just- weird. They always expected a lot from me since I was the only child. And I didn't find out until way later that I was adopted. But that didn't stop them from treating me like I had to live up to a family name that wasn't even really mine."

More silence. And within that silence, Michelle realized she was spilling out so much more information than she ever wanted Negan to know. But it was too late. The words had escaped and there was nothing she could do to take them back.

As Michelle finally looked back over to Negan, she saw his expression had turned much more serious, almost like he was _sympathizing_ with her as he sighed, " _Damn_ … That's rough, darlin'. M'sorry to hear that."

"What about yours?" Michelle found herself asking before she could stop herself, realizing all too late that that was her question. She kicked herself for wasting it.

Slowly, Negan was sitting up, facing her more properly as he took a careful breath, exhaling, "I won't give you the whole sob story but basically my wives are all I've got." He paused, his lips twitching up into a meaningless smile, seemingly out of habit, "Any family I had is _dead_ as shit."

If this had been a different situation and Michelle wasn't being held captive by this man, she _might've_ felt sorry for him. She might've even offered him her condolences. But that wasn't going to happen. She was sure the details of his lost family weren't pretty but she didn't want to know about them in detail. There was no way she was going to allow any kind of humanity to touch his image, especially if she was ever going to keep her hatred towards him strong.

He began to move closer, Michelle not daring to move a muscle as he did so, and his dark eyes were searching her features, smile still barely hanging onto his lips, "That's why _you're_ here. Why all my other wives were here. Because there was only one other woman to compare to you all and that was my first wife."

Yet again, he moved even closer, now just inches separating them. His presence was so overbearing and so all encompassing, it was hard to focus on anything else but him in front of her. And the ensuing taste and feel of his lips on her own were all she could think about then. It was just like the kiss he'd given her after she donned the dress, soft and gentle and so unlike Negan and everything about him.

She could do nothing but squeeze her eyes shut and let this run its course. Try to put her mind in a different place and time. But that didn't stop the sensation of his lips gliding over her own, pressing deeper and the hair on his face prickling her skin. She hadn't realized she'd stopped breathing until he was finally pulling away, a deep breath falling into her nose as she opened her eyes.

It smelled of leather and some kind of musk of cologne. And in that following moment, some sort of clarity came to her. Dark hair, dark eyes, fair skin; Dawn had them. Sherry had them. Michelle had them. Her eyes widened.

"We all look like your first wife… _don't we?_ " Michelle breathed.

And suddenly Negan's smile was spreading, "You really are a smart cookie, aren't ya?"


	17. Part 17

The next day had gone by surprisingly smoothly. Maybe it was because Ramsay hadn't been down in an entire day. The now uglier-than-ever bruises marring Michelle's skin had all come from _him_ , after all. So his missing presence wasn't something she was going to start complaining about. _However…_

Ever since that conversation with Negan, the need to know the details of _how_ they captured Dawn had been growing and growing. Negan still said not a word on it, even as Michelle asked a time or two more. He just told her to give it up and ask Ramsay. And she wasn't about to ask him when he'd be coming down to visit next. Didn't want to give him the idea that she wanted him **anywhere** near her, even if it meant getting some much needed information.

But when she wasn't pining desperately over that information, she was mulling quite angrily over the revelation that she was here simply because a certain shoe fit. Because she _just happened_ to look like Negan's first wife. Presumably a true and legitimate wife before he'd gone off the deep end. There had to be something certifiably **wrong** with him. A psychologist would have an absolute field day with him and she could only imagine he'd make one hell of a famous psychological study.

It didn't take much critical thinking to connect the dots that that must've been who Lucille was. _'Lucille's Diner'_. Naming a restaurant after the very wife he somehow lost along the way and eventually storing away women that reminded him of said wife _under the restaurant._ Insanity didn't even begin to cover it and any time Michelle thought on it too hard, it made her sick to her stomach. She had to imagine Lucille wouldn't have wanted any of this. Then again, what kind of person could ever fall in love with Negan enough to marry him in the first place? Maybe Lucille wouldn't have minded this. Maybe she would've even been the kind of person to condone something like this.

She needed to stop thinking on it so much, instead needed to focus on the important things. It was easy to lose track of her goal: make sure she didn't do anything to cause harm to come to Dawn and get to Dawn. Which was so much easier said than done. Behaving, putting up with the kisses Negan continued to give her, not lashing out or giving him some scalding sarcasm. It was hard to desensitize herself to it all when it was just all a waking and never ending nightmare.

Her goal was clear as Negan came strolling in that late morning (or she could only really _guess_ that it was late morning; he seemed to come at the same times every day now) and she barely even let him greet her at the bottom of the steps before she was speaking.

"Lucille was your first wife," she began, tone holding an odd sense of accusation to it like she'd caught him in some big lie. "You named this place after her. Didn't you?"

Negan let a silence trickle in, albeit short, as he was perking his eyebrows up in visible surprise before huffing a chuckle, " _Wow._ Alright. You **really** don't dilly dally on figuring shit out, now do you? Little miss natural fuckin' Sherlock Holmes over here."

There was something oddly satisfying about being right. But again, that distant growing knot of estranged sickness in her stomach presented itself at the thought of it all.

Michelle's face was curling up into something akin to disgust, "Do you know how.. _Fucked up_ that is? I mean, you have to realize just how **_insanely_ ** messed up all of this is. On some basic, decent human level."

That damned smile of his was growing as he stepped closer, Michelle not realizing he was holding a tray of breakfast until he was setting it down onto the bed, "It's all so crystal clear and dry cut in that head of yours, ain't it? Like you got the whole picture laid out on some big canvas. I really, really, and I mean re- _he_ - ** _HEally_** , hate to burst your rose and candy rainbow tinted bubble, but shit just isn't so black and white as you want it to be. Doesn't work like that. _Nope_. No sir."

Shifting on the bed slightly, Michelle pressed her lips tightly together in pensive contemplation, trying to brush his words away.

"But! Alright, sure, congrats and stuff for figuring out who the Lucille of Lucille's Diner is," he went on, the hint of a smile still curving his lips as he clapped slowly and sarcastically. "Tada. Surprise. Way to go. You just won yourself a nice and dandy little a trip to Hawaii."

 _God_ , she hated the way he had with his words. Why couldn't he just talk like a normal person at least once? Oh, right. Because he was so far removed from being a normal human being it wasn't even remotely funny.

Generally, she would let this kind of thing go. But _no_ , not this time. She wanted to push him and see just how far down the rabbit hole of his insane mind she could go. What was she hoping to find? Maybe some sense of clarity in his thinking? Her naive way of subconsciously believing there was something sane in all of this? That there was something maybe, _possibly_ , good buried deep within him? Maybe.

"What happened to her?" she asked, not at all handling the words with care as you would when asking about someone's deceased spouse. He didn't deserve that courtesy as far as she was concerned.

"Murdered," his answer came so bluntly, Michelle had almost doubted he'd answered truthfully at all. But his expression, a careful but quickly fading smile at his lips, said otherwise. "In the coldest blood possible, she was fuckin' murdered."

Michelle was distantly aware of a twinge of sympathy, a feeling she quickly trampled out and ignored. There would be no sympathy for Negan here. But curiosity… That was another ordeal entirely. And needless to say, her curiosity had been _beyond_ piqued.

Her next words were the only logical assumption she could come to, "By you?"

Those were a poor choice of words. She could see the darkness of anger bubbling up beneath his rugged features, smile gone and eyes boring into her so deeply she almost felt **violated**.

"She might as well have been," he answered quite solidly. And just like that, his expression was resuming its mask of redirective humor and sarcasm and grins. He snorted, almost in an incredulous manner, " _Shit_... Look at you. You've got me saying crap I never, **ever** say. I'm sure you'd be a goddamn natural therapist at this rate. You should feel proud."

 _'She might as well have been'._

What did that even mean? Something about that bothered her, the way he said it, the look on his face. It felt so genuinely full of something not unlike remorse and maybe even a deep rooted regret and sadness. Emotions that she never could've ever fathomed someone like _Negan_ was capable of in the slightest.

Michelle felt her heart jumping just slightly as the sound of small beeps filled the air. Negan grinned her way, reaching into the pocket of his jacket to pull out his phone, "Gimme a sec, will ya darlin'?"

Like she had a choice.

He answered curtly, "All done?"

Silence filtered through the air as Michelle looked away, down at the plate of food on the tray before her. Bacon, eggs, and toast littered the plate along with a cup of coffee to the side. She scowled at it, not at all feeling hungry. She wasn't feeling hungry a lot of the time lately.

"Good," Negan was speaking once more, grin on his lips growing. "You better make sure as shit they're hidden this time. We can't have that happening again. Fuck ups like that are for **_damn_** sure a huge _no-no_ in my book. Got that?"

Michelle returned her attention back to Negan, watching him carefully as he chuckled, "Atta boy! That's the can-do spirit I know and love. Now hurry up and get on back here. I do believe a certain lovely lady o'mine is just overeager as hell to ask you something."

Without waiting for a response it seemed, Negan was bringing his phone away from his ear, hanging up and pocketing the device once more. Michelle could only guess that that had to be Ramsay. It would only make sense for it to be. But what exactly had Ramsay been doing? Where had he been? What was he hiding? Just more questions to ask, it seemed.

"It's your lucky day, my dearest soon-to-be wife!" Negan was still grinning, the hint of his tongue sliding out between his white teeth. "Now if I were you, I'd be sure as fuckity fuck to try your darndest to make things up to Ramsay. You scratched the _shit_ outta his neck and his phone is screwed. **UP.** And I mean big time. He'll be strollin' on by soon and you'll have all the time in the world to chat. And I'm sure you two will figure out somethin' to make up for the shit you did to him."

How could he even have the nerve to say something like that? _For what **she'd** done to **him?!**_ Shouldn't it have been the other way around? But of course, they were in a completely warped version of reality down here. And Michelle could do nothing but look away, not at all wanting to argue and give him any reason to fuel any kind of fire. Trouble would keep her down here. She had to remember that.

"You know, it's not that hard to just cooperate," Negan started once more when Michelle didn't say anything, looking away from him even. His voice was like sandpaper. "We could all get along so well, holdin' hands, singing kumbaya and all that. You've just gotta give it a chance to work."

Was it even possible to genuinely give whatever this was a _'chance'?_ **No**. No way in hell. Who would willingly just accept all this? Maybe someone that was weaker willed than Michelle. Maybe someone that didn't have a goal. Maybe someone that didn't have their best friend's safety on the line if she didn't just 'cooperate'. It frustrated her to no end.

What she wouldn't do to go back to worrying about bills and gas and filling out job applications.

"Alright, alright," Negan sighed in resignation. "Stubborn to the very end. No worries. I've got time."

As his words fell into the room, Negan was turning to make his way up the steps. And Michelle should've just let him go without saying a single thing, without even looking back to him. But she couldn't let her scalding tongue go to waste.

"Would your _Lucille_ be proud, Negan?" Michelle asked, voice flat and pointed. She watched him with a guarded glare as he stopped, his body remaining motionless for several long seconds. They ticked by agonizingly, an eternity within each nanosecond.

Finally, he was turning just slightly, the hint of a mirthless grin on his lips, dull points of his canines just visible, "I'm sure she just absolutely would."

His tone was nothing but sarcasm, his own way of deflecting the statement she was certain. He didn't speak another word before he was moving up the steps and opening the loud door. She was alone yet again.

* * *

It didn't feel like it was very long before that door was opening. Michelle _still_ hadn't touched her food, the conversation with Negan lingering and making it more a priority than what was an empty stomach. And now as she spotted Ramsay coming down the steps, she was sure she wouldn't be hungry for _at least_ a week.

The sight of him brought back what he'd made her witness: those pictures, that video. Michelle had just started to push the images of it all back but seeing him again just brought them all rushing to the forefront of her mind again. It made her grimace.

He was smiling pleasantly as he approached her, "Hello, Michelle. You're looking well."

Michelle scoffed, knowing that was a blatant lie, "Yeah, these bruises are probably _really_ becoming on me."

"Oh come on now," Ramsay was laughing and it sounded incredibly genuine. He stepped closer, shaking his head. "Bruises or not, you look as beautiful as ever."

She wanted to gag. But now was not the time for this banter; she hated the way he got her into doing that. Probably his way of distracting her from what was important.

Michelle found herself sitting up more properly on the bed, swinging her legs off the side and clenching the edge of the mattress with her fingers, "How did you take Dawn?"

Ramsay's brows shot up, almost as though he was surprised at how direct a question it was. The momentary surprise fell from his face as he eyed the tray of cold food on the floor beside the bed, "You haven't eaten this morning?"

"Don't change the subject," Michelle responded, rather firmly at that. "I want to know what you did the day you took Dawn. I need to know."

Slowly, Ramsay was taking in a deep breath before he was huffing it out in a chuckle, his smile not nearly as pleasant as it was before, "I'm just trying to make sure you're not starving yourself. I think that's a **much** more important subject than what I did that day."

This was becoming beyond frustrating and Michelle was wishing she'd just clawed his throat out in the first place. It would've been better for everyone in the end. Well, probably not Dawn. And that thought made her even more angry.

Michelle took a quick breath, closing her eyes for a short moment, before she was trying again, "Look, I'll eat it _eventually_ , okay? Just tell me what you did. Please." That last word was like swallowing glass. She couldn't believe she had to say that to him.

Without a word, Ramsay was reaching up and loosening his red tie before removing it. He tossed it onto the bed and moved to unbutton several of the top buttons of his black work shirt. The distant feeling of fear began to well up within her as she was worried about what he was doing. But the fear was quelled as he tugged back the collar, revealing red and angry blemishes on his neck. The very marks she'd left on him.

There was an odd sense of pride in that within Michelle. So much so, she had to hold back a smile in spite of herself.

Ramsay's expression had turned much colder, the hint of pleasantness a very distant emotion in his tone, "These haven't been the _easiest_ to keep hidden, you know. Not to mention, I've had to buy a new phone. You've made things really difficult for me. And for that, I think I want a little compensation."

Negan's voice was popping up within her mind, reminding her how he told her to make it up to Ramsay. Something that she really had **_no_ ** intentions to follow through on.

When Michelle didn't respond, her body and throat tightening up in growing trepidation, Ramsay stepped closer as he went on, "So you want to know how I took Dawn, how I did it. And _I_ want some compensation. I think we could arrange an agreement here, don't you think?"

A million different and terrible things came to mind as to how Ramsay wanted _'compensation'_. And none of them were pleasant. In fact, they just kept sounding worse and worse the more her mind ran with it. But if it meant knowing what happened that day, knowing how he did it…

She took a slow breath, breathing it out just as slowly, before she was responding, fingers tightening at the edge of the bed, "What do you want?"

An incredibly satisfied smile lit up his face at her words as he brought up one hand, flicking his fingers in a 'come here' motion. She suddenly felt glued to this spot, as though her muscles could never budge an inch again. But she knew backing out of this would probably result in something far worse than what Ramsay had in mind.

Michelle swallowed roughly before she was finally standing, moving closer to him with slow steps. Once she was a comfortable distance away, he did the motion again, " _Closer._ Come on."

It took all the inner strength possible to move closer, but she did, feeling her body screaming at her to just get as far as possible away from him. But she fought it. And now she was within an arm's length of his form.

" _That's_ it," Ramsay said quietly and softly, almost soothingly. It made her even more fearful.

When he began to reach forward, Michelle cold feel her body go rigid and she was unconsciously flinching back somewhat. Ramsay stopped, eyebrows raised.

"Don't worry," he reassured her. "It's going to be just fine, Michelle. I'm not going to hurt you. Not unless you give me reason to. Just humor me."

So just don't give him reason to. That was simple enough. Right? For her sanity and peace of mind, it had to be.

Now Michelle could feel his hands on her hips, fingers following the curve of her body down, onto her thighs and traveling back up. Michelle remained still, making sure to not move an inch and trying her very best to act like this wasn't affecting her. But in reality, she wanted to cry. She was hating every second of his hands being on her.

Just barely his hands were brushing along her breasts and she was squeezing her eyes shut, trying to transport herself somewhere else. Somewhere that wasn't _here_ , that wasn't being touched by a man so vile and so repulsive. It was so hard to do. So very hard.

Soon, his thumb was brushing along her lower lip, other fingers pressing beneath her chin to tilt her head up somewhat. Using his other hand, he hooked it around her waist and pulled her closer, to the point both their bodies were flush against one another.

"Open your eyes," he muttered, voice husky and low and deep.

Michelle could feel his breath against her face as she tried to swallow the knot in her throat. It didn't work. But she did as he said, opening her eyes and seeing a tundra of ice in his eyes that made her shiver.

Ramsay's eyes flickered down to her lips, his own eyes lidded as the hint of a smile played at his lips, "Now kiss me. And do it like you mean it."

Why did he have to say that? Why couldn't he have kissed her himself? Could she even bring herself to do it? Even if it meant getting this information? She didn't know. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to look at herself ever again if she did this willingly.

Seconds ticked by and maybe even minutes before Ramsay was sighing, pulling back slightly as he did so, "Remember what we agreed? We can just drop the deal now and neither of us will be closer to getting what we want. I'm sure we don't want that, now do we?"

She hated this. With every fiber in her being, Michelle hated this. She couldn't believe she was about to do this. But the need for this knowledge had been practically eating her alive the past day or so, making such a mess of her thoughts. This was what she wanted. Just not _how_ she wanted it.

This was it. Now or never. She gathered every bit of courage she could and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. Her eyes closed as she tried to envision it was Tenth, trying her damndest to pretend it was him. But that made everything worse. Made everything much more sad. Because it was then she realized she may never kiss him again.

The feeling of tears began to sting the backs of her eyes, but she fought it, focusing on the act of the kiss itself. It wasn't Ramsay she was kissing, she had to think of it like that. Or rather, not think at all. Just act. So she did. She pressed deeply into the kiss, giving it her all and sliding her lips along his.

Ramsay pressed into the kiss himself, pulling her closer and even daring to press the tip of his tongue along her lips. She allowed it, the sensation making her want to recoil, but she kept her composure surprisingly well.

Pulling away somewhat, Ramsay was moving to press his lips in a suckling kiss against her jaw, moving to nibble at the undamaged skin of her neck just below her jaw. His words came hot and quiet against her skin, making her shiver, "I hope you know your misbehavior the other day _really_ didn't help in getting you out of here."

Ramsay shifted, running his hands down her back and along her thighs once more as his lips brushed against her ear, "I told you right from the start it'll be in your best interest to just do as we say, become the perfect wife. But your stubbornness will only keep you here. You should really think on that."

Michelle wanted to cry. She wanted to be left alone to crawl under the covers of that damned bed and sob the rest of the day. This had been almost too much and she didn't like any of it. Not in the slightest. But it was about getting the information she'd been craving for months. It had to be worth all of this.

" _Kiss me_ ," Ramsay commanded once more as he pulled back from her ear, and Michelle did so once again without hesitation. She kissed him deeply, passionately, without another thought and held nothing back. It was almost out of some sort of spite, out of some pent up anger she had nowhere else to release. And as Ramsay hummed deeply in his throat, their tongues meeting for just a moment, she knew that she'd done well.

A smile so sweet that it could compete with candy itself was on his lips as Michelle finally opened her eyes again. He was stepping back somewhat, giving her a little more room to herself, and he brought a hand up to press gently to her cheek.

"Go ahead and sit down," he told her softly and warmly. "I'll tell you everything about the day I took Dawn. And I'll tell you just how she became such a perfect wife."


	18. Part 18

Months and months had led up to this point. Months and weeks and _terrible_ days had all led Michelle **here**. To this blank room with uneaten and cold food, bruises on her flesh, images and thoughts she'd never be able to wash herself of, and one of the most disgusting and horrid men she'd ever come across was sitting beside her on a bed that was becoming her only solace.

She didn't want the information of how her best friend disappeared to be revealed to her like this, but information like this seemed as though it had to come at a price. And _shit_ , if she didn't pay it in full. _It had to be worth it,_ she kept telling herself. _It just had to be._

"Now where should I start? Feels as though it was a _lifetime_ ago," Ramsay was musing, his tone almost wistful and carefree. It made her want to shake in anger. It was like he wasn't taking it seriously at all.

But she wouldn't think on it too much. For the sake of her own sanity, if anything.

He was smiling as he went on, "It was a cloudy day in June when I first saw her. Dawn fit _everything_ Negan wanted in a wife perfectly. She was beautiful, dark hair, dark eyes, such soft and fair skin. Negan and I took turns watching her through her daily schedule. She stayed home an awful lot but when she _did_ go out, we were there. Negan wanted her and so did I, so the hunt was on."

Michelle had to bite at her lower lip to stop from snapping at him. How **_dare_ ** he talk about her like that. How **_dare_** he treat her as though she was some animalistic prey to be hunted down. _How fucking dare he._ She had to look away from him, finding the padded walls a much easier thing to look at.

"I believe we watched her for a couple of weeks before we decided to put a plan into motion," he continued, a smile in his tone. "Then one day, that _wonderful_ day, she decided to go shopping so I trailed her. She went to the Fresh Market Place, just down the street from your apartment. I worked my magic on the locks of her car, got the hood open, and quickly and quietly poured a small bag of metal shavings into her oil."

It was almost hard to believe this. How the hell had no one stopped him? _Saw_ him? Weren't there cameras? She didn't say anything, however, and just continued to listen.

"I then made my way into the store and made it my mission to _'accidentally'_ bump into her. We collided, I charmed her into a simple and polite conversation, and went on my way to wait in my car. As Dawn came out to her car and loaded the groceries she'd purchased, she was starting up the car and didn't make it, maybe- more than a block before her car began to give out on her. So there I stepped in, concerned and pleasant and smiling. I offered her a ride home and the moment she was in my car, that was all it took. She struggled a bit more once she realized what was _really_ going on, but nothing a little drugs can't take care of."

Was Michelle shocked? Underwhelmed? _Over_ whelmed? Empty? Satisfied? She didn't know. She just _didn't_ know. None of it sounded like it should've been right or sly or that simple. A swallow went down her throat roughly, like sandpaper, before she was finally looking back over to Ramsay.

"How…" Michelle muttered, staring at him with something cross between anger and disbelief. "How did you get away with that? How did you do it so easily? How- I don't even understand _how_ …"

Ramsay was huffing a small chuckle as he raised a brow, "You think I didn't take precautions? Do you really believe I haven't done this before? Fake license plates, a disguise, a wonderful smile like mine, and a personality as amicable as mine; I could have gotten away with much, _much_ more if I wanted to. No one looks twice at a man dressed in a mechanic suit opening the hood of a car, no one doubts a kind and pretty stranger striking up a conversation in a grocery store, and no one, especially _Dawn_ of all people, can resist a false sense of security thinking they know the character of a stranger from a pleasant conversation and the offer of a ride home."

Despite having an empty stomach, Michelle felt sick. She wanted to scream and cry and stop existing. Something about this knowledge drove her insane. How could **_no one_** have noticed? How did Ramsay do all of this so easily and without a hitch? It was because he was _experienced_ in this sort of thing. Because Dawn wasn't the first person that he'd abducted. With a smile and kind words.

He was nothing more than a wolf in sheep's clothing.

It was difficult to damn near _impossible_ to stop the tears from leaking, staining her cheeks as she screwed her stinging eyes shut. She pressed her face into her hands, shaking her head. This was the information she'd been wanting for months now. The information that the police- the **_fucking_ ** police- hadn't been able to acquire. Or maybe they had and they were just withholding that information from her. Maybe they did or maybe they didn't; either way, Michelle was broken.

The sudden feeling of his hand clasping onto her shoulder made her jump, her body quickly moving back and away from him until her back met the bundle of pillows at the head of the bed.

" _Don't_ ," Michelle sobbed, wiping at her eyes. "Can I just… Be alone right now. _Please._ "

Through the tears in her eyes, she could make out a look of concern on Ramsay's face. It was fake. _All fake._ And it made her want to cry more. That son of a bitch-

"I think being alone will make it all the _worse_ for you, Michelle," he went on, voice soft and caring and **disgusting**. "I can understand that this must be a lot to take in at once, and I was going to tell you more about her days down here, but it seems like maybe you're not ready to handle that just yet."

It was so _hard_ not to scream at him. So, so **very** hard. He touched her again. And that was all she could handle.

" _Why?!_ " Michelle finally snapped, screeching at him. " _Why_ are you like this?! **_Why_ ** did you do this?! Y _OU'VE RUINED HER LIFE! YOU'VE RUINED MINE!_ "

If Ramsay had any kind of negative reaction to Michelle's outburst, Ramsay wasn't expressing it. Instead, he just seemed surprised and taken aback, his tone matching suit, " _Why_ do I do this? Well why else other than because it's _fun?_ Because it's something that I enjoy."

The way he said those words, it was as if it should've been obvious. As if Michelle was silly or stupid for asking in the first place. She could feel her nails digging into each of her hands as they curled in on one another, threatening to draw blood as her whole body began to shake.

She had no more words. Only tears and the sounds of sobs escaping her throat.

Michelle couldn't stop Ramsay from moving closer and wrapping his arms around her. He consoled her in motions that betrayed his overall intent, fingers running soothingly up and down her back. And she was in no position to shove him away. Despite her anger and disgust and absolute hatred, she sobbed into his chest, still knowing that if she were to shove him away, fresh bruises would line her skin. Or worse. _Much_ worse.

"It's alright, Michelle," he hushed her, words soft and sending painfully stinging chills through her spine. It racked her body with more sobs. "Everything ended up working out in the end. If it's any consolation, she was very compliant after some time and even welcomed the entire situation. It just took her a bit of time was all."

How long would it take to choke him out? How far could she dig her nails into his throat until he stopped breathing or drowned in his own blood? Never before had she had such murderous thoughts until now. What were these men turning her into? What kind of monstrous side were they bringing out? And why didn't she care if she could find an easy way to kill them, _especially_ Ramsay?

It was terrifying unto itself and yet she wanted nothing more than to see them dead.

Michelle wasn't sure how long she sat there, tears flowing and cries fluttering out of her lungs. But all she knew was Ramsay continued to hold her, the embrace leaving her feeling disgusted with herself for even allowing it. But it was all so draining. Mentally, emotionally, physically. She felt incredibly tired. And before she realized it, her cries and tears had subsided into an even breathing, her eyes staring into nothingness and her body feeling useless.

Slowly, Ramsay was pulling her back and away from his chest, his blue hues studying her closely as he spoke gently, "Maybe I'll tell you more later when you've rested some. I'll even bring you fresh food. For now, get some rest. You must be exhausted."

Before Ramsay let go of her, he was hinting at a smile for a small moment of silence before he was whispering, "Kiss me again."

Her brain registered the words and complied, if only to make him leave faster. She kissed him, although it was broken and tired, but he seemed pleased enough as he pulled away, that smile still on his face. With one hand, he was reaching forward to brush back a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes filled with nothing but pleasantness flickering over her features.

"Take care for now, Michelle," he said as he stood, taking the tray of uneaten food and making his way out of the room.

Michelle's body fell onto the mattress, facing the wall, and her eyes stung from the salt and redness of her tears. She stared at the wall. Not sleeping. _Never_ sleeping. Because she felt like she could never sleep again.

* * *

Did she eventually fall asleep? Michelle wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of a lot of things right now. Her eyes burned, she was certain of that much. And she had become so familiar with the padding on the walls it was almost engraved into her mind at this point.

She jumped as she felt the sensation of a large hand on her upper arm. She didn't want to look behind her though. She didn't want to know whether it was Ramsay or Negan. Maybe they would go away if she didn't turn around.

"Hey, darlin'."

It was Negan. She didn't know whether that was better or worse.

His voice was low and quiet, almost as though he was trying to be gentle with his words, "Ramsay told me about what happened. You reacted pretty- _not_ so good. Went a little batshit, he said. Which is understandable; shit's a lot to take in. But _man_ I thought you would've taken it better."

"How did _you_ react when you learned how Lucille was taken from you," Michelle responded, her words dull and lifeless and more of a statement than a question.

Michelle could just make out a snort from him, "Damn, all tuckered out and acting so dead on the inside and you've _still_ got some bite on ya. But you're shit outta luck; you're gonna have to try harder than that if you want to fuck with me about Lucille. And you're gonna have to cut that shit out if you ever want to get out of here."

Michelle still didn't look back at him, not wanting to look at his face for even a second, "Then tell me what I need to do. Stop being vague."

Silence greeted her words before a slow chuckle was wisping out from his husky throat, "Alright. Alright, now that _is_ fair. And I can easily do fair. You want to get out of here. I _get_ that. But you need to start accepting that this is your reality now. This is who you're gonna be and will always be. You're gonna be my wife. No way around it. I told you, day one, it's a nasty pill to swallow but the faster you swallow it and accept it and live by it- the quicker this will all be and the happier hunky dory we'll both be for it. Trust me on that."

The sound of his clothes rustling (she was sure she heard his leather jacket crinkling) greeted her ears as he seemed to be crouching closer, his words just above a whisper now, "You're still settling in and I'm giving you that time to get used to all this. So I'll keep giving you that time. _For now._ But at one point, it's gonna come to a cusp where you're gonna need to suck it up and make a decision: be my wife and I'll always treat you like you're the goddamn queen of the world. But if not? That's fine. You can have it your way. You won't be the _first_ failed wife I've had."

 _Failed wife._ Those words made her heart jump into her throat at what it implied. And suddenly she was all too terrified to even find out what that meant. So she remained silent.

"I want this to work," he went on, almost as if he hadn't mentioned anything of _'failed wives'_. "And I know you do too. We can make it work."

The sound of him standing once more filled the room before she could feel his lips pressing gently and carefully to her temple, lingering there before he was pulling away to whisper into her ear.

"Give this all a chance, sugar," his breath ghosted against her skin and she squeezed her eyes shut. "Because it's all you've fuckin' got right now."


	19. Part 19

It was still so incredibly impossible to get a handle on time passing down in this hellhole of a room. Down in this room with padded walls and only a single bed. With nothing more than a few books, finished sudoku puzzles, and Michelle's own thoughts to keep her company most of the time. Negan and Ramsay could hardly ever be considered _'company'_ to her, even if they were the only human interactions she had received for all the time she'd been in here. And, as she asked that morning when Negan had brought her breakfast, she discovered she had been here over a week.

More than an entire week of time had passed since she woke up to this new reality of hell and abuse and terror. And shit, did she feel every day of it wearing on her bones. She was tired. Really, **really** tired. Exhausted didn't even _begin_ to scratch the surface of her emotional and mental state. She'd stopped receiving any fresh bruises or physical markings, but it was only because of how tired she was. She was tired of fighting. She was tired of resisting because it just felt so futile.

Was that so bad of her, really? Was it so bad that she was just giving up? Maybe so. Maybe it was wrong of her to just be giving in, if only to get out of here. Maybe it was fucked up that she let Ramsay kiss her whenever he wanted and let him touch her however he wanted. And maybe it was terrible that she was no longer repulsed when Negan pressed his lips to her own or spoke to her in gentle words.

From an outside perspective, she had probably given in too soon, too quickly. But weariness had gotten the best of her and letting it all just happen would end up being for the best. At least, she could only hope so. It wasn't as though she was greeting her captors with smiles and complete obedience at every turn. She was just doing what she could to _survive_ this. To get out of this with some semblance of sanity.

Later that same day as Negan told her how long she'd been stuck here, she found herself at the sink, running the water and splashing it onto her face. The water was lukewarm but refreshing; she hadn't taken a proper shower in several days (she was certain Negan would probably offer to take her to that house again for another shower soon) and her face was drier than she had even realized.

The sound of the door was making itself known as Michelle began to dry her face off, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching down the stairs. She turned to see Negan approaching, yet another tray of food in his hands. Was it already time for lunch? She never felt truly hungry anymore, so she knew that food would probably not be eaten for several more hours to come.

"Well, _hello there_ , beautiful," Negan beamed, his grin as clear as the playfulness in his tone. As was the usual. His tongue poked out from the edge of his smile, "Come over here, sit down. I wanna have a little chat with you."

Michelle watched him carefully, standing still in place for several moments as she bit her tongue. He wanted to talk to her? About what? Maybe he was going to tell her that she could leave now. Join his other wives. Get this whole process over with. But maybe that was too hopeful.

Either way, she silently complied, moving over to the bed and settling down with the pillows at her back as Negan slid the tray of food onto the opposite end of the mattress.

"I'll be real honest with you here, Michelle," Negan began quietly, voice like sandpaper. He slid his hands into his pockets. "You've been so damn goodie good two shoes lately that I think you're just _almost_ ready to get outta here. So congrats, you're doin' a hell of a job accepting this situation for what it is."

Her heart did a flip up into her throat. She swallowed hard as she replayed his words over and over in her mind. _She was close to leaving._ She was doing the right thing after all. Everything was going to be worth it, she was going to get out of here. Michelle was actually going to survive this hell. She wasn't going to become a _'failed wife'_.

But wait. It couldn't have been that simple. And she hated herself for thinking that and ripping a hole through her already fragile sliver of hope.

"Almost?" Michelle spoke quietly, the disheartened word slipping through dry lips. "What do you mean _'almost'?_ I haven't done enough?"

 **If** that was exactly what Negan was implying, that she wasn't trying hard enough, complying well enough, or just being all around dissatisfactory towards her captors, she would be at a loss. Because she truly didn't know what else she could do. Other than immediately clinging to them each time they came in with a smile on her face and actions ready to please. Which would **_never_ ** happen in a million years. She wouldn't be able to find the energy for it anyway.

Negan chuckled, "Hey now, I'm givin' credit where credit is due; you've been a real good girl. But let's be honest here, you had a hell of a rocky start and dare I say it, you were almost too feisty and spicy to keep around. I had my doubts. But you've been coming around puh- _retty_ nicely."

 _Not by any choice of mine,_ she noted pointedly in her mind. But she wouldn't say that out loud. Never out loud.

Michelle licked at her lips but it just left them feeling drier than ever, "Then what're you saying?"

Slowly and without answering, Negan stepped, one foot then the other, closer to Michelle. He crouched at the side of the bed, fingers folding into one another as his elbows rested on his knees. He tilted his head back, looking up at her intently, his dark eyes flickering as he seemed to be debating what words to use and how.

"While back, I mentioned trust," he began slowly, voice low and husky. "Trust is a huge, and I mean really, _really_ huge part of marriage. And if you're gonna be one of my wives you've gotta trust me and **show** me that you trust me. Without a doubt. Without reserve. Without a **_second_ ** goddamn thought."

Trust him? Trust Negan? Trust the very man that had been putting her through the worst days of her life thus far? How could she ever?

The way she was looking at him must've been all too readable to what she was thinking. It was almost like Negan could read her mind, her expression laying her as bare as words in a book. Incredulous. Doubtful. _Disgusted_.

Negan scoffed, "That look is **not** the kinda look you wanna be givin' me right now. You think you can't trust me, huh? Let me tell you somethin'. Let me just give you a little reminder: have I ever, _even once_ , harmed you? Have I ever lied to you about anything down here?"

...He had a point. He hadn't harmed her, not physically anyway. There were probably many years of therapy ahead. But he hadn't lied to her about anything. Well, as far as she could tell, anyway. He'd been all too upfront about everything to the point it was painful. She swallowed roughly and tried to look at him with a much more neutral expression. Something less betraying to her inner thoughts.

When nothing but silence passed her lips, Negan was sighing, shaking his head, "Look. I get it. You still think I'm some kinda monster that can't be trusted. I remember what you said before. Don't think I've forgotten. That I can't possibly know what it's like to have lost someone. To have someone taken away from me."

Negan's voice was growing serious and it was growing quiet. It was odd and unsettling to see the smile fading from his lips, to see something other than humor and sarcasm and witty remarks upon his lips. It was unsettling in its own odd sort of way and Michelle wasn't sure what she was to expect now. She didn't like it.

"My wife, _Lucille_ ," his words were quiet yet rough, just barely above a whisper. "She was a hell of a woman. Kick your ass if you so much as rolled an eye her way kinda woman. Don't need no man to hold her hand and I'll be honest, she scared the shit outta me sometimes. But I liked that. She didn't take no shit from me and boy did I try to give her a lot of shit. Gave her a hard time for the hell of it and she wasn't having none of it. Stubborn as a goddamn mule. And fuck if I didn't love her all the more for it."

Was this really happening? Negan was.. Opening up? Was that what this was? Michelle didn't have time to ponder on it as he continued, his dark eyes darting to the side for a moment.

"We were married for ten whole years before shit hit the fan," he muttered, seeming to find some kind of resolve to continue as he looked back at Michelle. "Cancer came around to fuck our lives right up the ass. Raw and hard." Negan snorted, mirth far from the small laughter. "But she acted like it didn't mean a thing. Like it wasn't shit. Refused treatment. And just so I don't leave you in suspense, that caused a hell of an argument between us. I wanted her to get the damn treatments and she didn't. I think that's pretty self explanatory."

Michelle watched his features carefully and it took her a moment to realize he was guarding his expressions very carefully. Every movement of his eyes seemed calculated, every hitch in his voice, the volume, the tone; it was all careful and certain not to betray anything. But every bit of it looked and sounded genuine and truthful. Michelle didn't know what to think.

Bringing up one of his hands, he brushed it over his jaw, his white teeth dragging over his bottom lip. He sighed before going on, "To make a long and nasty and quite honestly regretful story short, we separated. Really, I'll call it what it was: she ditched me. Neither of us were budging and she was an immovable force in what she wanted."

The smallest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his lips as he paused but there was something so spiteful about it; whatever memories he was drudging up, they didn't look pleasant. And maybe if he'd still just been Michelle's boss and not a borderline psychopathic captor, she would have felt sadness and pity for him.

"Y'know, it's real funny, real downright hilarious as shit how life has a way of keepin' you on your toes, keepin' you guessin'," he went on roughly, whispering. "Cancer taking my wife would've been the **_kind_ ** thing to happen. It would've been the better option. Have her floatin' away in some shitty hospital bed and me getting that call from the doctor. But nah. Instead, it was some jackhole that murdered her. _**Murdered** my goddamn wife._ "

Michelle could feel her eyebrows knitting together as she studied him carefully, her voice just as cautious, "Why?"

"I've been asking the same fuckin' question for years," he responded flatly. "And believe you me, we're both not gonna get an answer to that one any time soon."

A random murder. A victim of some kind of happenstance. Wrong place, wrong time. That's all it was? But it brought another question to the table.

Her eyes bore into him intently, trying to find things unspoken in his expression and gaze, "Why'd you tell me that? You want my sympathy?"

Slowly, Negan was standing once more, " ** _Shit_ ** no, I'm not looking for sympathy handouts. Don't need you to look at me all teary-eyed and spouting apologies. I'm just trying to get you to know me better. To realize that maybe, _just maybe_ , we've both gone through some shit. Lost people."

Michelle turned her eyes away from him, feeling like maybe he was doing all this to try and get her to see him as something other than the monster she knew he was. To see him as- _human_.

"The bottom line is this, sweetheart," he finally continued after Michelle allowed nothing but silence to fall from her lips. It brought her attention back to him, his expression still holding a strange and unsettling serious air to it. "You've gotta show me your trust. You've gotta show me your loyalty. And most importantly, you've gotta show me your commitment. That is the **only** way you are ever gonna get outta here and be my wife."

This was leading somewhere Michelle didn't want it to lead. She didn't want to accept the radical conclusion her mind was coming to, what this entire conversation had been leading up to. It was terrifying and beyond something Michelle knew she could ever be capable of doing so willingly. She didn't want to think it. She didn't want to be the one to say it outloud. No. _Never_.

"You'll need to have sex with me," he stated simply, as if it was nothing. As if it was matter-of-fact. **Blunt.** "You'll need to want it, ask for it, and mean _every_ little damn bit of it. And if you don't mean any bit of it? Then trust me. I will, without a single doubt, know."

Michelle's mouth went dry. Her darkest days had become darker. How could she ever do that? How could she ever want it and mean it? That was just it. She couldn't. _She couldn't._ So she was never getting out of here.


	20. Part 20

"I don't understand."

Michelle's voice was hoarse and dead and wavering, even to her own ears. And she was certain that it was only amplified to Negan. She still couldn't believe he'd come out and said it so very plainly and without hesitation. Just like that. Like it was nothing.

 _'Have sex with me.'_

Michelle was shaking her head, continuing before Negan could even open his damn mouth, "I don't fucking understand!"

Negan looked at her with bewilderment, "I didn't realize it was that hard to understand. I think it's pretty damn straightforward. Your parents never give you the talk? That what's wrong here? Or was I just not clear enough?"

"No!" Michelle shouted, staring at him intently. She hesitated for just a moment, taking a deep breath. Her words shook and hitched. "I don't understand why you're doing things like this. You kidnap me, force me live down here, and then expect me to _want_ to-" She stopped, her voice shaking more and more the longer she went on.

A small sigh escaped his mouth, something like a parent dealing with an unruly and naive child, "I want you to think of it like this: **this** is your life now. This is how things are gonna be. There's no going back from this, Michelle. The world out there _ain't_ gonna welcome you back. That's not the case here. I want you safe and happy here and alright, maybe you haven't had the grandest suite to stay in. No five star review, I got it. But I'm offering you a way out. A better life where you don't gotta worry about shit."

"Just throw me out already then," she immediately responded. "Just let me be a _failed wife._ I don't care. I don't want to have sex with you. I won't."

Slowly, Negan's brows were furrowing as he moved to settle on the bed next to her. She didn't even bother scooting away from him, the closeness of him growing to be a common occurrence that she just had no more energy to fight any longer.

His voice was low and even, "You've already shown me just what a perfect wife you can be. I've _seen_ you accepting it. And believe it or not, I don't wanna have you ending up like the other ladies that just couldn't accept it, not even for a second."

Michelle swallowed roughly. Her eyes flickered over his features, silence consuming the vacuum of a room.

Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, Negan was pulling out his phone, going on as he unlocked it, "Guess I'm gonna need to do this to show that you don't want the alternative here, Michelle."

She watched him with cautious and tired eyes as he selected something on his phone before bringing it up to his ear, the distant and quiet sound of the dial tone coming from his phone. Just a few rings more and the muffled voice of a man answered. She had no doubt it was Ramsay. _His lackey_. Who else would it be?

"You still got those pictures?"

 **Pictures**. Just the sound of the word brought back the vivid images of Dawn in those lewd and exposing positions. She quickly tried to wash them away, squeezing her eyes shut, but that only seemed to make it worse. She gave up, opening her eyes once more.

Negan's lips twitched into a small smile, "You got it. _Exactly_ those. Michelle's gonna need to see them at the house."

What was he talking about? And why did it give her such a terrible feeling in her gut?

Nothing more was said before he was pulling the phone away from his ear and ending the call. He proceeded to pocket it once more.

"What was that about? What pictures?" Michelle asked hurriedly, both dreading and needing the answers all at once.

Negan just smiled wider, "Don't worry about it, darlin'. It'll be midnight in an hour and I'll be back then. We'll go get you a shower and some fresh clothes. Make sure you're all _extra fresh._ Gotta finish closin' up shop."

He didn't even wait for a response from her before leaning forward and pressing his lips to her own, brushing back a stray strand of hair from her face as he pulled back. He grinned, all perfect white teeth and pleasant eyes, as he stood and made his way out of the room. Even more than ever before, Michelle was terrified and lost beyond all measure.

* * *

The next hour left her with a sense of horror and unease. Usually, when it came to getting out of here, even if it was just to go take a shower and get new clothes, it was a taste of freedom away from these bland and suffocating walls. It was a chance to see how different the world had become during her time away. It never was different, however. The world continued to turn and no one was none the wiser about her captivity.

Now she knew all too well how Dawn had felt. It felt hopeless and lonely and filled with waiting for help that would never come. She had to wonder if Tenth had given up on ever finding her. Hell, maybe he even had a new girlfriend about this time.

Michelle bit angrily at her lower lip, as if to punish herself for thinking so little of Tenth like that. Then it hit her. That was the first time she'd thought of Tenth in days. **_Days._**

Her body began to curl up, her back pressing against the wall as she hugged her knees into her chest. It all hurt. The loneliness, the _emptiness_ of a confining room and uncertainty of what the next minute, hour, or day would bring. She pressed her forehead against her knees and sewed her eyes shut. Tears couldn't even come. They wouldn't anymore. No matter how much she wanted them to.

The hour passed by in agony, each minute holding a dragging eternity. She thought she'd be used to how time passed in this hellhole, but she was completely wrong. It felt like days before Negan came back down, wrapping her in his jacket and warning her it was a cold night. Not that she cared, the coldness reminded her of a world above ground that she welcomed.

Michelle was silent the entire car ride, only the reminder of Dawn's safety keeping her from yelling bloody murder into the night. He didn't have to remind her of that this time, having done so the last couple times they had made this trip. It felt odd to be in a car and still not be free.

Nonetheless, they arrived at the house, the roads mostly barren save for the lone car or two that passed as they exited the car and stepped past the door of the suburban home.

She was about to head up the stairs on her own to the restroom when Negan reached out, grabbing her arm and stopping her short. Her body tensed at the touch, but she turned to look at him nonetheless.

"I think it's about time we had a talk about the alternative to this whole situation," Negan remarked, voice gruff and somehow loud in the empty house. "Probably should've done this a _lo-ong_ time ago."

Michelle watched him with hard eyes, her voice on edge, "You're finally going to tell me about the _'failed wives'?_ "

With a grunt of acknowledgement, Negan tilted his head a bit, signalling her to continue upstairs, "Right you are, sugar. Now up the stairs, into the bathroom. C'mon."

Hesitation took over Michelle's limbs as she tried to read into his words, the call to Ramsay from earlier looming over her thoughts. Pictures. House. What the hell was she going to see up there? Her gut told her something bad. _Very_ bad.

Finally, she turned to face the stairs once more, pulling her arm away from Negan's hold as she slowly made her way upstairs. The darkness radiating from the upper floor was like something straight out of a horror movie, making her trepidation that much more justified. Michelle stopped, fingers digging into the wooden railing to her right as she took a deep breath, the promise of a shower awaiting just tempting enough to make it through whatever the hell was waiting.

At the top of the stairs, she realized that the bathroom light within the bedroom was on, leaving her with even more dread than before. But she swallowed her fear, pushing herself to go into the bedroom. The bathroom door was cracked, the warm light from within foreboding.

Once more, she forced herself forward, willing to face whatever there was within.

As she grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, she saw nothing but her own reflection at first. A person she didn't even recognize. Her eyes quickly averted, not wanting to look at herself any longer than necessary. But beyond that, nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. She almost felt stupid for being so scared.

 _'Pictures.'_

 _'Michelle's gonna need to see them at the house.'_

 **What** pictures. **Where** were they. She felt a morbid curiosity to find them. Turning around, she returned to the room, flicking the light on to find the room just as it was last time she came here. Nothing new. Nothing different. Nothing different in the bathroom.

Slowly, Negan was finally making his way into the room and she was looking to him immediately.

"Where are they?" she asked accusingly, almost as though he were in trouble.

Bemused, Negan was answering, "Where are **_what_** , Michelle? Not exactly sure I know what you're on about. You're gonna have to be a little more specific."

Was she going crazy? She knew she heard Negan talk to Ramsay about pictures at the house. But she knew full and well that Negan was the type to give her no more information and let her go _crazy_. If these pictures were nowhere in sight, then where were they? Why did he mention the failed wives and the bathroom like they were connected?

 _Unless._

Michelle turned back to the bathroom once more, moving within and to the closed curtain of the bathtub. With shaking hands, she reached forward, grabbing the curtain and quickly pushing it to the side. She stopped breathing.

Before her eyes were at least a dozen pictures of bodies chopped up and multitudes of blood marring them. In fact, a majority of the pictures held an **incredible** amount of blood. There was long dark hair strewn about in some of the pictures and the heads of women that almost looked eerily like her decapitated from their bodies.

The gore was too much to handle, her stomach immediately bubbling up with a sickness that forced her to look away. A dry sob and heave left her mouth as she stepped away, her back hitting the wall behind her. One of her hands quickly reached out for some sort of support, her other covering her mouth as if it would keep her stomach from throwing bile up her throat. The sound of bottles from the shelf to her right clattered to the floor just as she did, the cold floor only barely keeping her grounded.

Negan's calm voice soon filled the air, giving her a fright, "You wanna know what those women thought? They thought **_that_ ** was the better option than living with me and being my wife." Michelle's eyes quickly looked up to him in horror as he went on, "I'm not a _fan_ of that option, personally. Ramsay? Well, he's always up for it. And I have been doing one hell of a job keeping him from convincing me that _that_ should be where you go. In fact, it is quite **exhausting!** "

" _How many..?_ " Michelle spoke in a shaking tone.

"Too many," Negan almost sounded disappointed at that. His voice had hints of a sincere sadness to it. It disgusted Michelle even more.

Slowly, Negan stepped forward and crouched down to her, his voice quiet and unsettling despite its calmness, "Now, I _don't_ wanna see you become a part of that. I don't think you wanna see _yourself_ become a part of that. And I know, sure as shit, Dawn doesn't wanna see that either."

Michelle felt scared shitless. Knowing it was Ramsay's hands that did those vile and disgusting things to those women. Her eyes floated back over to the pictures, as gruesome as they were, almost as if she was hoping they were gone. They weren't. She quickly looked away again.

"No," she finally answered, shaking her head. "This isn't fair…"

She could feel the careful hand of Negan's upon her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze as he whispered, " _This_ is just how it is. But in the end, it's your choice. You don't want to join them… Do you?"

Her eyes opened once more, staring at the tiles of the floor with an indescribable feeling of despair filling her mind. But the horror of being at Ramsay's mercy like _that..._ Being killed and desecrated and who knows _what_ the fuck else was possibly the scariest thing she'd witnessed in this entire ordeal.

She shook her head, silent and forcing a whimper down.

" ** _That's_** my good girl," Negan muttered quietly. He moved closer, pressing his lips gently and warmly to her temple. He lingered as Michelle took a shaking breath before pulling away.

"Now go on, go take a shower."

Michelle didn't quite know how long she stayed sitting there, even after Negan left and closed the door behind him. But she finally began to move, her limbs feeling as though they weighed a million pounds as she locked the door. She couldn't look at those pictures anymore. She was beyond disgusted and they had to be gone, she had to pretend like she'd never seen them in the first place.

With closed eyes, she moved to the tub and reached forward, grabbing the taped pictures off the wall and roughly ripping them into shreds over the toilet. It began slowly but after the second tear, she was turning them into unrecognizable shreds of nothingness. Michelle growled angrily as she threw the pieces into the water, quickly flushing them as she did so.

She didn't want to think of **anything**. She just wanted nothingness right now. The water of the tub began to run as she turned it hot, searing her skin before turning it colder. Immediately, she stripped of her clothing before stepping into the tub.

The water ran in hot waves, still hot enough to sting her skin but she just _didn't_ care. She didn't care at all.

Suddenly, the sight of blood running down her legs sent a panic through her chest. She was bleeding. Somewhere in her mind, with what was left of her sanity, she knew it was just her period. But combining everything of the past week and those pictures? It was all she could handle.

She sunk to the floor of the tub, curling herself up and breathing heavily. Her skin burnt from the water. Her abdomen ached. The water ran down the drain red. And she was losing what was left of her mind.


	21. Part 21

No matter how much she screamed, _nothing_ came out. Her lungs ached as she gasped for breath each time, her ribs straining painfully in an effort to keep her chest from simply bursting. Red was all she could see, every last shade of it. Dark and splattered and covering everything. Michelle finally looked down at her hands, every muscle in her body shaking violently, and she saw they were coated in blood.

Dripping, oozing, slowly covering her arms. It was hot, growing hotter still. And soon enough, it was beginning to enter her mouth, coating her lungs and suffocating her. Beyond the redness that began to stifle her vision, she could make out a figure. _Who_ was it? **_Who?_**

Michelle startled, fighting off whatever was suddenly surrounding her as she jolted up. A rough and gasping breath came into her mouth as her eyes flew open.

Nothing red. No blood. Just a blank room littered with books.

It was a bad dream. A _really_ bad dream. She realized soon enough that somehow during her sleep, she'd allowed her covers to constrict around her like a snake, certainly fueling the terror of her nightmare. And with the memory of the terrible dream came the rushing reality of her waking nightmare.

She winced as she could feel her insides pulling at her in uncomfortable ways. As if everything couldn't get worse, of course her body had to remind her that she was still a sack of flesh with a working reproductive system. The timing couldn't have been better; _end sarcasm._

Then again, maybe the timing _was_ a blessing. After all, it came right on the heels of Negan proposing possibly the worst thing he's ever proposed: have sex with him or get cut up into tiny pieces by Ramsay (among other things). And if anything, this was one of the most viable excuses she could use to get out of it. For a few days, at least. After that? She really wasn't sure.

With a groan, Michelle was untangling herself from the bedsheets surrounding her, even her head beginning to pound. It just wasn't enough that she was trapped and held hostage, _no_ , even her body had to torture her in every way imaginable.

After she'd finally gotten out of the shower last night (she'd sat there until the water had actually run cold and Negan had to check up on her multiple times), she was thankful to find the things she needed to conceal the fact she was bleeding within the bathroom. It couldn't have been the first time any of Negan's wives were in need-

Michelle immediately stopped herself from that train of thought. _'Negan's wives'_. The thought occurred to her so casually and without much hesitation. She couldn't believe it, but this was just the state of things now. And it was horrifying to think it was becoming so normal.

Her hands came up to bury her face within, a deep sigh brushing warmly against her skin. Even if she was able to keep this incredibly personal information to herself for the time being, she knew she'd have to bring it up to Negan eventually. Hell, not only because it would stop him from wanting to have sex with her but also because she could really, really use any kind of painkillers.

"Dammit," Michelle hissed as she hunched over, instinctively clutching her abdomen. She cursed everything about this.

The next half hour was practically agonizing and she couldn't even believe she was happy to hear that door finally open. But as she saw who it was coming down the steps, she would've rather endured every day of menstruation without a single bit of medication.

Ramsay smiled warmly and knowingly at her as he approached, a tray of food in his hands. Even though the wafting smell of breakfast filled the room, it was enough to make her sick, especially when it was Ramsay that brought her the food.

"Good morning, Michelle," he addressed her pleasantly. "You're looking well rested and _extraordinarily_ radiant today."

More than ever, Michelle had no energy for his bullshit. There was something in his cold eyes she saw that he knew what happened last night. After all, _he_ planted the pictures. **_He_ ** committed the acts within the pictures. He knew all too well and he was playing with her in incredibly cruel ways.

She had to hold back a groan, not only because of his presence, but because a particularly strong pang of pain radiated through her lower back. Gritting her teeth, she bore it quietly.

"I heard about your little trip and your unpleasant reaction to my handiwork." Ramsay moved to slide the tray onto the edge of the bed beside her, his eyes not wavering from her for a moment, "It's a shame you had to go and destroy those photos though. They were some of my _best_ ones."

Her hands curled and tightened into fists, nails digging deeply into her skin, before she was exhaling. Michelle tried to keep her voice level but she couldn't help allowing some spite seep into her words, "Why did you do that to them..? How **could** you?"

"How could I _not?_ " Ramsay was still smiling, damn him, and he shrugged so nonchalantly as if the answer should've been obvious. "You saw what they became, not what they did to get there. Believe it or not they behaved _much_ worse than you and yet I can't lie when I say you've come quite close to joining them."

Michelle couldn't let that phase her, she couldn't let **any** of this get to her in the slightest.

"Did you enjoy what you did to them?" her voice was calmer than she felt. Much calmer. It was eerie even to her own ears.

A small moment of silence trickled into the air as Ramsay stepped closer, his hand reaching out and brushing gently along Michelle's cheek. She didn't flinch, not even for a second as he dragged soft fingertips against her skin.

" _Immensely_ ," Ramsay muttered, a terrifying yet barely concealed excitement behind the single word. "And what I **wouldn't** give to do it to you."

" _But you can't_ ," Michelle whispered back, voice begging to crack and falter. She didn't linger on his words, otherwise it would've sent her into a spiral of fear. "Because Negan won't let you."

Husky and mirthless chuckles left Ramsay's mouth as he nodded, thumb moving to brush along her chin, "You're truly lucky he really likes you. He has more patience with you than I ever could."

There was an odd sort of rushing adrenaline coursing through her veins at the exchange with this man. She knew the atrocities he's committed with the very hands he was touching her with, how he felt no remorse and even pleasure from such acts. Dismembering women, no doubt torturing them beforehand and she couldn't even imagine rape was off the table. But here she was, standing up to him in her own defiant way, refusing to shy away from him.

Michelle was scared shitless. And yet she wouldn't back down.

"Yeah," Michelle spoke barely above a whisper. "Lucky."

She could see Ramsay visibly clenching his teeth as he took a deep breath, leaning even closer as he did so, "Maybe I'll get lucky as well. Maybe I can have some of you before you go back to that whore house."

Ramsay was close enough that Michelle could feel his breath as it rolled over the flesh of her face, his lips hovering over her own.

"Don't worry though," he went on, voice cold and soothing. "I won't hurt you. _Much._ I promise to keep you in one piece."

Michelle swallowed hard and she tried to ignore his closeness and his words, not daring to allow the thoughts to fester in her mind, "How many people have you murdered?"

"Hhm. Ten, maybe fifteen, at least," Ramsay muttered, moving past her lips to drag his mouth along her jaw. His words were searing in her ear. "I tend to lose track after a while."

Pretending this wasn't happening to her at this very moment, pretending that he didn't have his hands and mouth all over her, it was all she could do to remain sane and calm in this moment. Just pretend. And shit if it wasn't hard to do.

" _Why?_ " she nearly choked on the word, her eyes sewn shut.

The wetness of Ramsay's tongue was playing at her neck, teeth following, "Why not? I enjoy the feeling of power and control. I realized I could do anything the moment I watched the life fade from my father's eyes."

Michelle wasn't sure how much more she could take of this before her resolve simply broke. While she found the strength to continue in this conversation moments ago, it was quickly fading. It was becoming too much. She had to stop it. Now.

" _Where's Negan,_ " Michelle demanded more than asked, her voice beginning to lose the control it once had. "I need to talk to him."

That seemed to be just enough to stop Ramsay, pulling him away so his icy hues could bore into her. His eyebrows furrowed, "You're actually asking for him? Well isn't that a first."

"Just tell him," she ordered roughly. Her voice was growing uneven and she knew she couldn't keep up this strong facade much longer.

Whatever was in the tone of her words seemed to somehow amuse Ramsay. He just smiled, a small bout of chuckles seeping past his cold grin. It was like he found it so funny she was on the verge of a breakdown.

"Fine," he gave a small shrug along with a sigh, but it was exaggerated, like he was playing it up just to be dramatic. The smile on his lips remained. "But first, I want to play a little game."

Michelle could feel her eyes widening just slightly, not at all liking the sound of a _'little game'_. In fact, she hated the very idea of it. Any kind of game that Ramsay had in mind was probably so far removed from being a real game because he'd be the only one having fun with it. And probably the only winner.

"What..?" Michelle found herself asking, the word of such an incredulous reaction slipping past.

His lips just turned into an even more unpleasant smile, "You heard me. A little game. Here's how it will go: I want you to recall all those wonderful pictures you saw and describe to me _which_ one you think is my absolute favorite. If you guess the right one, then I'll do what you say. I'll go get Negan for you right away. But if you guess wrong…"

A hard knot formed in Michelle's throat as she tried to swallow, tried so very hard, but it was no use. She almost felt like her throat was closing in on itself, threatening to make it impossible to even breathe.

"No," Michelle finally blurted out, the word not at all strong or convincing.

" **Ah-ah** ," Ramsay chided. "You didn't even let me finish. Don't be rude. If you guess wrong, then you owe me a favor of my choice."

"No," she restated, a bit stronger this time. "I won't play your game. In fact.. If you don't go get Negan right now, I'll make sure you'll never touch me again."

If there ever was a genuine emotion to be had on Ramsay's face, it was one of pure surprise at this very moment. The sudden appearance of a backbone to Michelle's biting words seemed to take Ramsay aback in that moment, but he quickly shrugged it off in laughter.

He was shaking his head, "You can't be serious right now, Michelle. What are you going to do, hm? Just what do you think you can do? Are you trying to **_threaten_ _me?_** "

That wasn't something Michelle would answer. Instead, she simply stared him down, her fingers curling into fists that shook in minute waves. What the hell was she doing? Just what in the HELL was she doing?

Yet again, Ramsay was laughing, his fingers dancing along her forehead to push away some stray hairs and his words were playfully spiteful, " _That's_ what I thought. So go on. Just tell me which one you think is my favorite. Get it over with. Like a bandaid."

Michelle knew that if she refused him any more, then it might not turn out very pleasant for her. In fact, she was more than certain it would turn out quite bad. Maybe she should just get it over with. Like he said: a bandaid.

Her gut wrenched in more than sickness, a sharp stab that forced a groan from her throat. But she quickly stifled it as she looked away, "I didn't get a good look at all of them… But one of the decapitated head ones. _There_. That's my guess."

"Be more specific," Ramsay urged her on in a quiet tone, meant to unnerve.

The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. He knew **EXACTLY.**

She swallowed hard, closing her eyes, "I told you I didn't get a good look at all of them, okay? I didn't sit there and fucking study them."

Ramsay laughed, "I understand you didn't like them but you could have, at least, not torn them into pieces."

A small silence settled into the room as Ramsay hummed, Michelle's eyes opening to see his face was stuck in contemplation. Just a moment more passed before he was giving her a simple smile and the tilt of his head.

"Alright," he finally spoke. "I'll give you- _partial_ credit. Only because you didn't describe in detail my favorite, though you were certainly close. But that's alright, wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable. And you _did_ try to play along, credit where credit is due. I am nothing but a fair man."

Michelle could feel a small bit of triumph but it was an uneasy one. What did he mean by _'partial credit'?_ Did she win his stupid game? Or did she end up losing? There was no telling with this man who was anything but fair.

"So you'll go get Negan now?" she asked, hopeful hints teeming in her voice.

Ramsay hummed a moment before responding, "Tell me what you want him so badly for. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in knowing."

Her teeth came over her bottom lip, biting down on it as she averted her eyes. Shit, this was turning into an incredibly humiliating event. Not only had he pushed her into such an uncomfortable position but now he was asking _this?_

Then again, maybe she didn't have to be completely honest with him. Although he might end up finding out otherwise, she had a plan to make sure that this would hopefully be the last time she'd have to deal with Ramsay ever being this close to her. She'd have to be careful about how she did it, but maybe she'd get lucky.

Taking a deep breath, Michelle answered as smoothly as she could, "I need to talk to him about Dawn and what'll happen when I become his wife. Where exactly I'll go. Stuff like that."

Michelle had never been the _best_ liar but she liked to think she made this one sound convincing enough. Besides, it wasn't entirely a lie. Not really.

Ramsay's features turned from curious to somewhat appeased as he simply huffed a sigh, "Alright, then. I'm sure Negan will tell me everything you two talk about anyhow."

With that, he was finally pulling away from her, the lack of personal space she'd endured finally coming to an end. She felt like she could breathe again and it was an incredible relief.

As he walked away and approached the stairs, with one foot on the incline, he stopped. Turning back to face Michelle once more, he spoke with an eerily cold tone, "And just so we're clear: you _didn't_ win our little game yet. Think of this like it's halftime and there's still some game left to be played."

Once again, Michelle was left to herself. And as she felt a stabbing pain in her groin, she doubled over, letting out a sob along with it.


	22. Part 22

Michelle had hours to settle her thoughts on what happened earlier between her and Ramsay. And that was something horrible to have settle. In fact, _none_ of it settled well on her consciousness. It weighed like a thousand pound shackle around her body, dragging her down and leaving her almost convinced hope was a nonexistent and pointless thing. Hours and hours of just hearing Ramsay's words play again and again in her mind, like some sort of sick carousel that was the stuff of nightmares.

He enjoyed what he did to those women. And she knew just from the _look_ in his cold ocean hues that he would immensely enjoy giving her the same treatment. She shuddered at the idea of it over and over.

At this rate, it felt like more than just hours. It felt like _days_. Neither of her captors had been around ever since Ramsay decided to slither down those steps to play his mind games with her. And shit if she didn't feel **every** minute creeping by. Her insides felt like they were trying to destroy themselves, taking her down with them kicking and screaming.

Michelle tried her best to fall asleep but it was to no avail. She just laid there for probably a couple hours or more, being shaken away from sleep by the pain when she was just within reach of it. A torturous process, at best. And during that time of attempted sleep, she caught wisps of half dreams; not quite there lucidness that brought her better times. And times that just made it all worse.

She saw Tenth, back at his own home, practically drowning in missing posters with her face plastered on it. His call log was filled to the brim to Rick Grimes, or really anyone else that would listen to his pleas to find his girlfriend. She saw him sleeping on the couch because his bed reminded him too much of all the times they'd shared it. And she saw him, perhaps the worst of it, forgetting to eat and with eyes of redness sore from the tears.

Most of all, she saw _herself_ in him. She saw him in her exact position the last several months. It hurt in ways indescribable.

Thinking of him like this, or thinking of him at all, hurt. But it hurt less than the very possible option that he'd already begun to move on. She couldn't even touch that thought with a ten foot pole, lest she taint any thoughts of him missing her. And she realized that loneliness drove such thoughts. She was so alone. _So lonely._ And it **hurt.**

Somewhere along the way, she'd fallen into a drifting sleep, only the movement of her bed startling her awake. There, settling onto the foot of the bed, was Negan.

" _Up, up,_ sunshine," he remarked, voice like sandpaper as his hand clasped onto her lower leg. She didn't have the energy to even grimace at such a contact, though she wished she could. The fighting was getting tiring at this point.

As Michelle began to sit up, Negan offered out what looked to be a black hoodie, "Here." She looked down at it quizzically, eyebrows knitting together in slight confusion.

" _What..?_ " she began groggily.

"We're goin' on a ride," he moved it closer to her, urging her to take it. "It's cold out and I can't have you freezin' your lady balls off. Wouldn't be very husbandly of me, now would it?"

Again, energy to rebuke his words escaped her. She just ignored his smile and bouncy tone of voice, groaning quietly as she sat up more properly and took the hoodie as she did so. With sluggish movements, she put the clothing on, the sleeves just a touch too big.

Seemingly satisfied, Negan stood once more and began to lead her up the steps and out the door, Michelle following with crossed arms. Then it started to hit her.

"Where are we going?" she asked solemnly, looking around to see that the restaurant was closed and it was pitch dark outside. It felt just like when Negan would take her to the house for a shower. But they'd done that just the day prior. So why..?

"I think it's easy for you to forget that there's a _whole_ world still up here," he went on, so matter-of-factly as they exited out the back of the diner. "I'm sure you want a change of scenery while we're at it, don't you darlin'?"

Michelle shivered as the biting fall wind met her, Negan stopping before they approached the car closer. He turned to face her before she could respond, reaching forward to grasp the hood of her hoodie and pull it over her head.

"Can't have anyone lookin' at your pretty little face," he went on, smile on his lips. His fingers grasped the end of her chin, tilting her head up and his thumb brushing along the skin there. "I _can_ get to be the jealous type if anyone started staring at you, y'know. And we **cannot** have that, no siree!"

A small scowl began to crawl onto Michelle's lips at his words. It was hard to tell how much of that was just a joke- she knew it was just to keep anyone spotting her. No doubt, her face had been plastered throughout missing posters and on the news. At least she _hoped_ so…

Michelle continued to remain silent as she felt Negan's hand on the small of her back, guiding her over to the passenger side of his car and opening the door for her. Wordlessly, she slid in, shoving her hands into the front pocket of the hoodie.

If Negan had pulled a stunt like this in her early days of captivity, she would've been internally freaking out, trying to figure out some kind of escape plan and coming up with horrible scenario after horrible scenario. But she was wore down, her ability to keep fighting this was waning. And perhaps that should've terrified her, but of course, she couldn't find the energy. _Especially_ not today.

The sound of the car door slamming and the engine purring to life brought her back to this moment in time, her eyes chancing a glance his way as he buckled himself in. She followed suit, not wanting Negan to do it for her (which he had already done once before, much to her displeasure).

As she settled into her seat, she caught a glimpse of the clock. It was just after midnight.

"Ramsay told me you were just _achin'_ to see me earlier," he finally broke the silence as he pulled away from the diner, the city lights illuminating the interior every so often. "Starting to miss me that badly, huh?"

"No," she answered bluntly, keeping her attention on the outside world as it passed by. "I just need… _something._ "

The sound of Negan's chuckles bounced off the walls of the car, "You need something? What, need more books? Need some more sudoku puzzles? Don't give me some cryptic shit here, be direct."

Her exhaustion simply made this conversation all the worse. She didn't have the energy to be embarrassed about this or really anything. And yet somehow still she was.

"I need…" she paused, sighed, thankful for the cover of an unreliable light source. _Just say it. Get it over with._ "I need pain medication." That was a start.

She could sense Negan's eyes on her every so often before he was speaking again, "Pain medication? The **hell** do you need pain medication for?"

" _Don't_ act like this is your first time-" Michelle sighed roughly in frustration, feeling herself sinking deeper into the upholstery of the car to somehow make herself disappear. She still wouldn't look at him even as they came to a stoplight. There were only a small handful of cars around. "It's- _that time_ … Of the month. **Don't** make me say it."

" _Ahh_ ," Negan exhaled, giving a few chuckles as he did so, pressing the gas at the sight of the green light. "No need to be so shy about it! You think I _don't_ deal with that shit a lot with my other wives? I'm practically an expert on that shit. As **TM-fuckin'-I** as it is. But boy oh boy, are you in luck tonight then!"

Several emotions flowed through Michelle's mind at that moment. Relief was, _oddly enough_ , one of them. The way Negan handled such information was relaxed, nonchalant. But there, following quickly on the heels of the relief, was the feeling of dread. She was in luck tonight? What did that mean? What _could_ that mean?

"I'm in luck?" Michelle found herself asking, tone curious despite herself. Her brows tugged together as she looked over towards him, catching a glimpse of a pearly white smile as a street light passed through the windows. It was almost jarring.

Negan turned his eyes over toward her as they pulled up to another stoplight, the red hue filling the car, "You're getting the upgrade treatment, sweetheart. Movin' on up in the world! And that is simply because you've been just so damn good lately. But also, consider it some incentive. To give you a little _taste_ for what's in store. A trial run, see?"

 _The upgrade?_ Michelle wasn't sure she entirely followed. Then again, was she supposed to? Negan was treating this like it was some huge surprise, like he was teasing a big birthday present he didn't want to spoil. And maybe that should've given her some semblance of peace of mind. But it was, frankly, doing the opposite. Negan and surprises should never comfortably coincide in the same sentence.

Michelle shook her head as they took a turn, uncertainty tainting her every word, "Negan, I don't underst-"

" _Shit_ ," Negan growled as he suddenly moved to brake the car, the engine slowing to keep up with the sudden action. Michelle could feel herself lurch forward a bit as the car now moved to a crawl. "You are _fuckin' **shittin'**_ me..!"

With swift movements, Negan then moved to turn off his headlights and turned the wheel, moving the car to park along the side of the road where several other cars were already parked. Michelle looked up, over to where Negan's eyes were currently glued as he turned the radio down.

Off in the distance, several houses down, was the exact house that Negan always took Michelle to for her showers and change of clothes. Negan cut the engine, making sure all the interior lights were off as well.

"What's happening? What's- _mmf?!_ "

Without warning, Negan's hand moved to press against her mouth to keep her silent, a single word hissing out under his breath, " _Quiet!_ "

Michelle could feel and even hear herself breathing heavily, uncertain what was even happening. She wasn't a huge fan of his hand covering her mouth but she didn't dare protest. Instead, she looked ahead, trying to gauge just what Negan was seeing.

It took several seconds before she saw a figure, moving about at the top of the steps to the house. The figure lingered for several more painful and drawn out moments before they were moving down the steps and back towards a car parked out in front. And just as the figure moved under the nearest streetlamp, she could just make out their features.

It was Rick. **_Rick._**

Immediately, Michelle was gasping, a sharp inhale through her nose- the sight of hope was within reach, within shouting distance. It occurred to her that it wouldn't take much effort to pull herself away from Negan and shout from within the car. Surely Rick would hear her if she made enough noise. Would she be able to get out of the car? How _far_ could she get?

Rick was opening the door to his car when Negan began hissing in her ear, his voice sending a shiver down every groove of her spine, "You are **_not_ ** gonna make _any_ kinda scene right now, understand? _Keep your fuckin' head down._ Unless you want **Dawn** payin' for any kind of mistakes you decide to make right now, then I suggest you listen to me and listen _good as fuck._ "

Shit.

 _Shit, that wasn't fair._

Michelle squeezed her eyes shut, a painful stab to her groin forcing out a sob against his hand as she complied, ducking down just as Negan ducked down as well. Easily out of sight in the darkness of the night. The sound of Rick's car starting up filled the street before it began to drive off. From what she could gather, it seemed as though it went the opposite direction.

It was so hard not to just cry right then. The seconds turned into hours and into millenia as they sat motionless, Negan keeping her down as nothing but their breath filled the car. Then, finally, Negan began to pull up, slowly but surely, as he surveyed the area.

That was when she lost it.

It all hit her in a culmination of emotions- they must've still been looking for her. They had to be if Rick was here, investigating around one of Negan's homes. She began sobbing, her body shaking as she realized that even if they were looking for her, _investigating_ , they'd still missed her. They still hadn't actually found her. Close but not close enough.

" _Hey, hey, hey,_ " Negan began, his quiet words like rough velvet. She could feel his hands on her, the tips brushing against her back in disgustingly soothing ways. "Hey now, darlin', come on. It's all gonna be just fine. The prick didn't see us. We're in the clear. Don't let it get to you, not when we're so close to everything being all picture perfect for us. Don't go ruining it now."

Michelle took a few moments to regain what composure she could, taking a deep breath before looking up, Negan still hovering above her. Distantly she was aware of his hands lingering on her back. She swallowed hard. "I just… Want to go home."

And Negan smiled. "Then let's go home."

* * *

The drive lasted another twenty minutes, maybe thirty. They'd gone far- other side of town far. Just outside of it, actually. It was getting to the point that Michelle was nearly convinced either Negan was taking them straight out of the state or truly back to her own home.

To think that maybe Negan _actually_ intended to just drop her off back at her apartment was silly. But when he gave such a cryptic and teasing answer as he did, it was hard not to hope. And perhaps that was the very last bit of hope she could have mustered at that point or even any point from now.

Seeing Rick be so close, seeing the exit, the _escape_ she needed, just within reach only to have it come crashing down on her, before her very eyes, was much more soul crushing than she could have ever imagined. In fact, it was brutal beyond belief. And while it was obviously not in the plan for Negan, he was no doubt taking and running with it to his advantage.

Like the opportunistic bastard he was.

But Michelle found herself simply lost in her own mind and in her own hopelessness to even give it much thought. She didn't even notice that the car had finally come to a stop- a much more gentle and purposeful stop than before. It took Negan's hand on her arm to get her attention and bring her back to reality.

Cold, hard, unforgiving reality.

"We're here," Negan's voice rumbled, much louder than she'd anticipated. Probably because the engine was no longer running.

Where was here? Michelle looked, _properly_ looked, ahead of herself to find a part of the city that she didn't recognize. Far away were the taller buildings of the inner workings of the city and surrounding her was, very plainly put, suburbia. She blinked slowly several times, her eyes aching and red and puffy from the tears, as she began to notice the many houses surrounding them.

It was a nice neighborhood and the houses were relatively large; the kind that many dreamed of setting their white picket fence up in the greener than green yards. Even though it was pitch dark out, a street lamp was placed at nearly every corner from what she could see, the closest one being several houses down.

Negan slid out on his side before rounding over to the passenger's, opening the door and bidding her out. She obliged silently, not even bothering to make much note of Negan's hand on her back that was leading her up to the very home they'd parked in the driveway of.

Michelle finally found herself looking up at the two story home. It was pretty similar to the previous one she knew so well like an old friend- but quite bigger. If the previous house could hold one family then this one could hold at least two or three. There was something to consider in that: how much money **_did_ ** Negan even have? To own two separate homes as nice as they were, it had to be a considerable amount. Didn't it?

Not that it was all that incredibly important, not really.

Finally, the silence was broken after Negan had unlocked the door and ushered her within, the door closing behind them, " _Welcome home_ , Michelle Morris. Ramsay mentioned your curiosity was gettin' pretty piqued about what it'd be like once you're one of my wives. And this is it! Perfect little home right outside of scenic Chicago. Got that perfect home sorta feel to it, don't it?"

 _Perfect?_ How could it **_ever_ ** be perfect? The sound of the word coming from Negan made her wish she could just empty every bit of her stomach. But the energy escaped her, so she said nothing.

Instead, she found herself crossing her arms before her, holding herself as if trying to hold her every emotion together. As if she'd simply fall apart otherwise. And for all she knew, she probably would have.

"Well _shit_ , don't get **too** excited about it," Negan snorted, sarcasm and a smile dripping in his words. He moved to turn on a light nearby that illuminated the entryway, giving Michelle a better view of the place.

Before her was a relatively expansive entryway, to the right a coat rack and beneath their feet a large, square red rug. Above them was a simple yet decorative and small chandelier that currently lit their immediate area. To the right was an open doorway leading into what appeared to be a dining room and kitchen. Straight ahead lead into what she could only assume was the living room and beyond that, she could spot a set of stairs that led up.

It was clean and she could've sworn that the wooden floors looked to have even been waxed lately. It felt so foreign she couldn't help but be stunned by it all a little.

The feeling of Negan's hand on her shoulder, disgustingly gentle, began to ease her toward the dining room.

"Let's talk some things out real quick though," he went on as he brought her over to the sizeable oak table. It was big enough to seat a decent sized family. Negan pulled out a chair and almost without thinking to resist it anymore, she sat. "We need to have a pretty important chat before anything else. A chat I'm not gonna like, a chat you're not gonna like, but it's gotta be done. Like ripping off a big ass and nasty as shit bandaid, we're gonna get it done."

 _Like a bandaid._

She shuddered as she closed her eyes, the phrase hearkening back to the one conversation she had with Ramsay earlier. Never again did she want to hear that phrase.

When Michelle opened her eyes once more, she saw Negan moving over towards the kitchen sink, reaching over to grab a glass. He began to fill it with water before moving to open another cabinet.

Michelle could feel herself swallowing dryly as she looked down at the table, the room now filling with light as Negan must've flipped another switch. She hated, even now, how much the things he said got to her and made her think. They made her think too much.

She could feel her eyebrows knitting together, "If neither of us will like this chat, then why bother having it at all?"

A laugh filled the room, rough and curt, as she looked up to see him approaching. "Because believe it or not, life's full of a _whole_ lot of unpleasant shit," he went on, smile staining his lips. He then set down before her the glass full of water and a couple of small, round, red-tinted pills.

Michelle looked from the pills then back up to him, a slightly worried and skeptical expression on her face. They looked familiar- they looked like painkillers. But it was possible that they could've easily been anything.

Negan snorted, "Jesus, they're just ibuprofen. Stop lookin' at me like that, you think I'm gonna poison or drug you or some stupid shit? I know you're in pain but sure, yeah, go ahead and don't take 'em if you don't want. Be in _all_ the pain you like."

A few more moments of silence passed as Negan moved to settle in the chair across from her. Michelle took a deep and silent breath as she looked over the pills- she hated how she was accepting these from him. But this was what she wanted in the first place, wasn't it?

Swallowing her pride as best she could, she silently moved forward and grabbed the pills, popping them into her mouth before swallowing down gulp after gulp of water. They went down easy. What _wasn't_ easy was how she'd just taken medication from Negan, trusting that they were exactly what he told her.

Negan was now leaning forward on the table, hands folded before him as Michelle looked up to see his expression lose its smile. It was, in fact… Somber. And it gave her the worst feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"So let's do things like this," he began, taking a slow breath as he tilted his head up. "Let's get the _bad_ news out of the way first."


	23. Part 23

**_RICK_**

* * *

The nights had gotten much more sleepless. He wasn't home as often as he should've been. His wife, Lori, always gave him that look- the kind of look that showed her support but behind it was the clear concern as well as frustration. Dinners together were rare because he was always out so late. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper conversation with his son, either.

And it was because of all these missing women.

Chicago was a city that saw a lot of missing people every year, but _this_ was going into a territory that Rick could never be comfortable with. Perhaps it was because of how closely he'd been working on it, especially with Michelle Morris before she fell off the face of the earth a week and a half ago.

Rick remembered the morning he'd gotten the call from a certain concerned boyfriend about her missing presence. He'd just barely gotten in maybe four or five hours of sleep before the news hit him. And it was _strange_ how hard this one hit him.

It could've been because he felt as though he was failing already with so many women missing- and now he'd failed Michelle too. Whatever asshole it was out there, making these women disappear, he'd failed to stop them before they took Michelle too. So he couldn't help but feel incredibly responsible.

Maybe that could explain the growing lack of sleep.

He could feel the case weighing heavily on his shoulders, even more so once everything had been officially declared connected. Every woman had similar features and were of a similar age bracket. So, of course, once he'd gotten the all clear from those up top, he had to give a press conference to address it all.

In truth, the explanation he gave out to a room packed full of reporters felt nowhere near as sincere as he wished it could've. Of course, he offered condolences to the families and loved ones of the missing and promised to find those responsible, but with the little information they'd turned up so far, it felt empty. Empty and wrong.

Finally he came across the chance to personally look into Michelle's case- the most recent of the missing masses. Number five of the connected cases. There were just a few leads to go on. Her tires had been replaced recently after a slashing incident while she was at work. They were looked at, quite thoroughly, and it was found that a certain owner of Lucille's Diner had provided them as an _'act of kindness'_.

That put the employees, along with the owner, of Lucille's Diner all on the list of interest. Rick found himself there personally just recently to follow up with that interest. He'd spoken to the handful of waiters and waitresses, the host, and then the manager, Ramsay.

"Negan's away, I'm afraid," Ramsay told him, polite and apologetic. "He's away on some family business but I can certainly answer any questions you may have, officer."

Rick only responded, "How'd you get that cut on your neck?"

Ramsay seemed a bit embarrassed, waving it off, "Oh, _this?_ This was just a workplace incident. Nothing to really worry about."

How the hell do you get an injury like _that_ from the workplace?

Needless to say, such an injury coupled with the missing presence of the owner piqued Rick's interest. After all, this was Michelle's last place of work. It was the last place she was seen as well. And it was the last place a suspicious incident occurred regarding her. It all added up to being highly suspicious.

"You mind if I take a look 'round?" Rick then went on after a small bit of silence, hands resting on his belt.

And Ramsay just smiled pleasantly and agreed, allowing him to proceed to search every corner of the place. All the while, the overly polite man explained what everything was and how they ran the establishment. He was like a shadow, trailing the officer and making sure he knew what was what and how. It felt deliberate and threw Rick off even more.

Finally, just as they'd passed the freezer, Rick took one more look about before returning his blue eyes to Ramsay. His eyes narrowed slightly, head cocking to the side, "Where'd you say Negan was again? Family business?"

Ramsay just nodded, "Yes. He's a _very_ private man, doesn't give many details. He should be back sometime soon. I can be certain that he gives you a call soon as he gets the chance. If you'd like."

"Yeah," Rick's voice was curt, to the point, as he reached into his pocket before pulling out a business card. He handed it over to Ramsay. "Yeah, you go ahead and do that. Thank you for your time, Mr. Bolton."

It wasn't long then before Rick was back at the station, going through record after record of this Negan. He found the basic information, everything he needed. Born in Georgia. Father killed his mother when he was young. Wife: deceased. Son: deceased as well. Seemed that he lived on his own in a small home within Chicago.

Rick got the address and made it his goal to scout it out after he clocked out.

* * *

 _ **TENTH**_

* * *

It had been the week from hell. Every moment he woke up, Tenth was expecting it all to just be a bad dream, not for it to be his reality. Difficult didn't even _begin_ to describe each morning when he had to realize just calling Michelle's phone wouldn't make a difference. Honestly, he'd tried that several times the first couple days, hoping uselessly there she would be on the other end, answering and telling him that she was alright.

While he had certainly gone through a considerable amount of heartache with Dawn being gone, this was somehow much worse. Because when Dawn had disappeared, he had to be strong for Michelle, he had to be a rock she could always stand on when she got too weak to stand on her own.

But now that he had to be strong just for himself, it was almost _impossible_. So he'd forget to eat most days and he'd forget to take care of his hair or change his clothes. He was certain that the dark circles under his eyes would be permanent and the stubble on his face was growing more and more by the day.

He'd had maybe a total of three conversations with his younger brother, Custiel. And while his brother did his _best_ to comfort Tenth during those calls, that was when Tenth's strong persona kicked in, if only to lie to himself about everything being okay.

Most of the time, however, he found himself making his own efforts to find her. Though they were limited by his work schedule, of course, he made it more of a priority than even his job. How could he not? When he wasn't working from home, typing up articles, he was trying the next action in whatever he believed would reveal Michelle's location to him. He'd lost track of how many times he'd tried to get in contact with Rick Grimes; it got to the point that Rick had begun to insist on just letting the police do their work.

"You'll hear from me if we find anything," Rick kept telling him. But that just _wasn't_ enough.

So Tenth had tried retracing some of her steps. He found himself at the diner a lot. He watched everyone within- all the regulars, the employees as well. And then there was a time, early on in his personal investigations, that the owner, Negan, actually approached him as he was sitting at his table.

"HI there. You're Tenth, right?"

Tenth felt his expression turn curious, his tone matching, "I, uh… _Yes._ I am."

Negan's expression turned somber, his eyes sympathetic, "Hey, I didn't mean to disturb ya or nothin', but I just thought I'd come and give you a little of my sympathies. About Michelle. Can't say I don't know what it is you're going through, but that don't make it any easier."

When Tenth didn't respond for several long seconds, Negan was clearing his throat as he scratched his cheek, "Michelle talked a _lot_ about you, actually. And I've been seein' you come in here a lot more lately after she, well… Y'know."

"I'm sorry," Tenth finally spoke up, shaking his head. "Negan, isn't it?"

"Oh, well shit, _excuse_ my manners," he responded quickly. "Yeah, that's right. Michelle's boss- well. **Was** Michelle's boss."

Closing his eyes tightly, Tenth then moved to rub the bridge of his nose, "Look Negan, I'm sorry, not to be rude or anything, but I'd rather be alone right now. Thanks."

Immediately, Negan spoke again, "It's all good. Just felt it right to say at least a _little_ something. That shit's rough. You need anything, just give me a shout."

And just as Negan had begun to walk off, Tenth looked his way and called out, "Wait. You don't know where she went after work the other night… _Do_ you?"

Negan stopped and turned. He shook his head, solemn and sincere. "I'm afraid I haven't got the foggiest idea."

* * *

 ** _RAMSAY_**

* * *

It _hadn't_ been a good day. In fact, it was looking worse by the hour. And when Ramsay tried to find a solution, he found it being shut down.

"Don't you think it would be a good idea? To just get him out of the way? It'd be easy-"

Negan's voice raised, "I said **_no_** , goddammit! You are gonna keep your shit in check and you're gonna keep it in check _real_ good!"

Ramsay's expression soured as he retorted, his words stern, "But **Negan** , I can take _care_ of it and we won't have to worry-"

The sound of Negan's fist hitting the table broke Ramsay's words in half, the older man growling, "Do **_not!_** Start this shit! Who the **hell** do you think is in charge of this whole shit show?! _Are you **confused about that, RAMSAY?!**_ "

Heavy breaths from Negan followed his words as Ramsay swallowed a bit hard, one of his fists clenching at his side. His jaw tightened, his eyes averting for but a moment.

"Need I _remind_ you of just who got you into the glorious and privileged little position you are in right the fuck now?" Negan began again, his voice quieter but the edge was still _very_ much there. "I get it. I **really** fuckin' do. Life's hard for a murderer like yourself, so let me just break out this small ass violin to play you a diddle."

Ramsay closed his eyes, running the situation through his mind again and again. He took a deep breath, cocking his head slightly. Maybe one day Negan wouldn't hold that over his head so much. Maybe one day Ramsay could get _out_ from under that.

Until then, he complied.

"Then what's the _plan_ here?" Ramsay finally spoke once more, opening his eyes to see Negan's expression had changed. The hint of a smile, ghosting over his lips, was growing.

"You're gonna get this shit _settled_. _Like I told you,_ " he affirmed with a nod. He leaned closer over the table, his voice just above a rough whisper. "And **_just_ ** like I told you. Do **not** improvise unless you absolutely have to. You get it done? You know one of 'em won't mind a little action. _They_ know the drill, _you_ know the drill."

With that, Ramsay was nodding back, "It'll get done, Negan."

Negan only smiled wider as he reached forward, clasping a hand onto Ramsay's shoulder and giving it a shake, " _That'a boy!_ You and me: we're a team here. You got that?"

The younger man was smiling back then, pleasant and jovial and deceptive, as he was responding back, "Yes. _A team._ "

* * *

 ** _DAWN_**

* * *

She could feel herself shivering even when she wasn't cold- in fact, it was quite opposite. The tub filled with hot water was enough to ensure she wasn't cold _at all._ But it was more than a temperature at this point. She felt cold from within, like the warmth inside her had shriveled away and was torn apart by the two men she knew as her captors.

Dawn stared at the water, the faint reflection of her sunken face looking back at her. It was easy to forget how much these months had worn on her. Especially when she always had so much makeup caked on to make Negan happy she looked as beautiful as she could.

That was always the point, wasn't it? _Keep Negan happy._ That was **so** ingrained into her system that she even believed it. Make him happy and she was happy. She smiled to make him happy. She did what he said to make him happy. She let him _fuck_ her to make him happy.

It probably would have disgusted her months ago. But that was all gone at this point.

What if she made him unhappy, though? How could she do that at this point, so far down the road? Her eyes found themselves wandering from the water over to the nearby sink, a hair dryer sitting atop it, still plugged in from when Sherry had used it.

She couldn't stop herself from reaching out for it.

 _What if she made Negan unhappy?_


	24. Part 24

This strange and unfamiliar house felt as though it was stuck in a void. A _silent_ , unmoving void, trapped in a single moment in time. And Michelle had the terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that she would never see anything past these walls for the rest of her days.

When comparing it to the four walls she'd come to know so well from the past week, _surely_ this home had to be better. It was much more sane, much more normal and yet it couldn't feel more **wrong**. Because this was the next step in her captivity. It showed how much she had given in and accepted the situation.

But if she hadn't, would she even still be drawing breath? Probably not.

"Are you listenin' to me, Michelle?"

She could feel herself blinking rapidly several times as she came back to the moment at hand. Swallowing hard, she focused her eyes on him.

Michelle opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it and nodded.

Negan took a deep breath. " _Good_ ," he gave a single nod back. "Now this isn't the kinda thing I wanna break to you, but I think it's only fair you know. I _respect_ you enough that this is something to have a serious conversation about."

Her eyes hardened, expression folding in equal parts confusion and trepidation. Michelle could feel her stomach beginning to turn into tight knots.

"What… Are you talking about?" she asked, voice hoarse and cracking.

"It's about Tenth," he answered plainly, _bluntly_ even.

Every inch of Michelle's body seemed to straighten, each individual hair on her body standing. Her fingers tightened in on themselves, forming fists that drove fingernails into her palms. _Did she hear him right?_

Michelle took a quick breath. "What did you do to him?"

At that, Negan made a slightly bemused grimace, "What did I do to him? Fuckin'- _nothing_ , Michelle! Y'know, one day you've gotta stop doing that crap where you think I'm the most vile villain, lurking around every corner, wringing my hands together and shit. I did jack all to him."

Minutely, Michelle felt herself relax. But it lasted only a moment. "Then what is it?" she demanded, her voice growing much more concerned.

Negan sighed, "I've seen him around the diner with another lady friend. Now I'm not here to make assumptions about anything because you passed first grade. You know how to spell assume and I'm _not_ lookin' to make an ass out of either of us. But from what I gathered, he looked pretty damn into her. Talking and talking for at least two damn hours the other day. Laughing, joking, _shit_ I could've sworn I saw them sittin' there, braiding one another's hair, they were so into each other."

 _No._

"No," she breathed.

 _ **No.**_

"You're lying," Michelle finally stated after a beat, leaning back in her seat as her fingers dug deeper. "You're just saying that to _mess_ with me. That's not true."

Yet, Negan's expression remained steady, regretful almost. He didn't shy away from her words for even a moment.

" _Hey_ , listen, I'm not the biggest fan of being the bearer of bad news," he shook his head, keeping his eyes on her. "But it's been on my mind ever since and bothering the _hell_ outta me."

The way he spoke, all of it, sounded too genuine to the point that it made her beyond uncomfortable. She didn't want to believe it. She couldn't. He had to be lying. It couldn't be true at all.

She shook her head quickly, doubt still plaguing her, "Why? Why would you even tell me this if it wasn't true?!"

"Because that's _exactly_ what's waitin' for you out there," he answered plainly, so candidly it began to break her heart. "Not even two weeks you've been apart and he's already moving on to next year's model. That is some pretty fucked up shit. Even **_I'm_ ** calling out how fucked up that is."

"Why lie to me? _Why?!_ " Michelle snapped, feeling the beginnings of tears at the back of her eyes.

She wasn't really starting to believe him, _was she?_ The longer she looked at Negan's face, the more she saw a truth in it. But it had to be fake, it couldn't be real. This was just what she was worried about, but it was all in her mind, a terrible nightmare that couldn't have come true.

The **one** person she'd been holding out hope for on the outside, still waiting for her. Still hoping for her return and she prayed he was still trying to find her. With someone else? Not only that, but _forgetting_ about her?

No.

Negan began to reach into an inside pocket on his jacket as he replied, tone heavy with a strange remorse to it, "Was _really_ hoping you'd just take my word for it, but you want proof."

Pulling out a single, rectangular photo, Negan slid it across the table before her and face down. He brought his hand back to himself as he added, "Ask and ye shall receive. Don't say I didn't warn you."

She stared, unblinking even as her eyes began to burn, at the face down picture. Within her mind, a war was raging. One large part of her wanted to leave it there, to never turn it over and reveal what she feared most. What she had been fearing for some time now. But _another_ needed to know. A burning and painful desire to prove how much Negan was lying.

It was then that the two possibilities presented themselves to her and she wasn't sure which option would hurt less.

Before she could think it over anymore, her need to know overtook everything and she reached forward, grabbing it and turning it over. The light dangling above the dining table illuminated the picture in perfectly clear light that she needed to take only one look at before putting it back down.

 _Negan **wasn't** lying._

"No…" she muttered, the tears begging for release. Her eyes screwed shut, bidding the tears to begin falling, and then it was all she could see.

Sitting in their usual table at the diner was Tenth and another woman. Long, auburn hair and tan skin. The angle was awkward, but it was easy to see he was smiling. That, coupled with what Negan said, was enough to bring her fears to fruition.

" _No, no, no,_ it's not real, it's **_not_** …" she muttered to herself, over and over, as though it would shape reality. "It **_can't_ ** be."

She took in a deep and shaky breath as she looked up to see Negan taking the picture back before beginning to rip it up, shaking his head as he did so, "Believe me, I _wish_ it wasn't real either. What kind of an ass does that?"

Negan then stood, making his way over to the other side of the table beside Michelle. He grabbed the nearby chair and pulled it closer, settling himself on it to her right as she watched him carefully behind tears.

" _Listen to me,_ " he began, his voice just barely breaking a whisper. He reached forward, dragging his fingers along her arm, downward before taking one of her hands and unclenching it from itself. "You listening? 'Cause that is **exactly** what's waitin' for you out there. Some jackass that moves on and forgets about you like you were yesterday's news."

He was wrong. He _had_ to be wrong. But everything went against that. The way Negan spoke and the picture and her own fears made it almost impossible to argue otherwise. In the most basic sense, any sign or possibility of hope was taken from her right then and there.

 _It was all gone._

"Being with me, that shit is **never** gonna fly. Not for even one goddamn second will I fuckin' let that happen," he went on, moving a hand up to wipe away a tear. He then leaned forward to press his lips to the top of her forehead, lingering there for several seconds. Then he pulled back, his hard expression remaining.

" _I don't understand…_ " she muttered, words nearly unintelligible as they escaped her tightened throat.

Negan took a careful breath before shaking his head, "You don't gotta understand it. Because shit, even I don't understand it. I'd been under the impression he actually cared about you but obviously it was all a big and nasty sack of lies. It's just.. fucked up as fuck."

After a small silence, Negan pulled back before moving to stand, "At any rate, it's late as hell and I don't know about you- but _I'm_ tired. Really fuckin' tired." He pushed his chair back into place before looking back to Michelle. "Let's get you settled in bed. A real bed."

This house truly felt like it was in a void. Timeless, unreal, unmoving. But she finally, eventually, found it in herself to stand and allow Negan to lead her upstairs.

She was on autopilot, barely even processing much of anything at the moment other than what Negan was telling her to do. He'd helped her find the restroom, just a door over from the master bedroom, where a fresh set of clothes awaited along with the things she needed to take care of her body.

The mirror begged for her to look into it but she wouldn't dare- she didn't need to be reminded of how broken she was, mentally, emotionally, and physically. It was hard to tell how long she took, every movement feeling heavy as she changed her clothing. But eventually she finished, moving away from the bathroom to find Negan waiting for her on the other side.

 _Of course_ he was waiting for her, making sure he could see her every move. And there was no protest left in Michelle's bones even as he lead her into the master bedroom.

It was tidy and roomy, simple furnishings but looking much more lived in than the other house. And before she realized it, she was settling under the thick covers and into the comfort of the queen sized bed. Moving up, she wiped away excess tears, beginning to understand what was happening as Negan sat on the opposite side of the bed.

"No," Michelle muttered, shaking her head before moving to start uncovering herself. "No, this isn't-"

"What?" Negan cut in a bit roughly. He reached down to begin undoing his boots and flicking them off. "You think I'm gonna be sleazy asshole and cop a feel after the night you've had? Come the _fuck_ on now, we're just sharing a bed! Sleeping! And not _that_ kinda fuck around sleeping, especially not with your- _condition_. I'm trying to be a stand up guy by not just leavin' you all alone."

Negan turned as he pushed his last boot off, moving to take off his jacket as he went on, "You gotta get over this whole _phobia_ of me you've got going on eventually. When I say I'm not gonna do something, I fuckin' well mean it."

He paused, tossing his jacket off to a corner of the room as he looked over to her, "But is that what you want? Wanna be all alone, stuck with all your own thoughts and letting them eat you alive like you're some kinda masochist? Because I _know_ you, Michelle. I know you'd sure as shit win some Olympic medal for mentally kicking your own ass."

" _You don't know me,_ " Michelle muttered, feeling almost insulted that he'd think he knew even the faintest thing about her.

"Look at me," he began again as he settled more properly onto the bed, leaning closer to her. His voice was quieter now, but that somehow made it worse. Michelle watched him carefully, fingers clutching at the covers. "You've got a choice to make right now. You can either get onboard and start gettin' used to the way things are or, with a _single_ word from me, Ramsay can find the prettiest damn bag to put all the little Dawn bits inside."

Michelle could feel herself swallowing roughly, the pictures of the women flashing in his mind and seeing Dawn in that place. _It was too horrifying._ She quickly squeezed her eyes shut to shove them away, tears pushing their way onto her cheeks.

After a moment of silence, Negan spoke again, "Call me a psychic but _somethin'_ tells me that _that_ is not what you want. But it is a choice that you can make, freely and at your discretion. So what's it gonna be? Door number one or door number two?"

"Don't hurt her, please," Michelle was shaking her head, her voice cracking as she finally opened her eyes once more. " **Don't.** "

The smile on Negan's face grew. "Now that's what I thought. I don't wanna see her hurt about as much as you, if not more- she _is_ one of my wives, after all. And a damn fine wife at that. But I need you to cooperate and get with the program here. So. Let's go the _fuck_ to sleep, shall we?"

Almost as if he didn't just threaten her best friend, Negan pulled the covers back and slid himself beneath them, Michelle reluctantly following suit. She settled onto the mattress beneath the thick comforter before beginning to turn and face her back to him. Maybe if she couldn't see him she could pretend they weren't sharing a bed.

" _Ah-ah_ ," Negan cut in suddenly, stopping her. Slowly, she looked back over to him. He was facing her and looking at her expectantly with eyebrows raised and the hint of a smile still lingering on his lips. Flicking his fingers in a come-here motion, he went on, "Come on. Don't go giving me the cold shoulder, now."

Even more reluctantly than ever, Michelle did as he said, turning to face him and moving closer. Negan opened his arms and soon enough, she found herself wrapped up in them. It was incredibly off putting at first. Michelle was all too aware of whose arms it was wrapped around her, holding her close, and that made this all the more difficult to not just pull away immediately.

" _There_ we go," Negan hummed. She could feel the words rumbling in his chest and it made her shudder. "That's not so bad, now is it?"

Michelle tried not to inhale too deeply, but it was hard not to smell him- leather and musk and a scent just so entirely _Negan_.

"You're an asshole…" Michelle found her words again, the spite only half there in her voice.

That got a chuckle out of him, "Ease up, darlin'. Take a moment, let it settle in. Stop trying to be so tough for at least five whole, whopping minutes."

She closed her burning eyes, the tears no longer flowing but that just made it hurt more. She shook her head slightly, "I thought you weren't the type to want to cuddle."

"I'm _considerate_ ," he countered. "I take care of my wives and think of this as a sneak peak. You need all that touchy feely cuddly shit? I am your guy. And you could be the _best_ fuckin' liar out there and still not convince me you don't need this right now."

Michelle didn't respond. She didn't even want to allow herself to mull over his words. He was just trying to get into her head, that's all it was. This wasn't for her. It wasn't.

But the longer they laid there, minutes ticking by and the beat of his heart audible to her ears, arms around her form, and the warmth of his body… The more she realized how _right_ he was. It hurt to admit how right he was. Being so alone in that room gave her such a sense of isolation, she forgot what this felt like. To be close and to be held and to be _warm_. But that just brought back memories of Tenth.

Unconsciously, she felt herself growing closer to Negan, pressing her forehead into his chest. Part of her began to accept everything as fact. That Tenth was somewhere out there, forgetting about her with someone else while she'd been rotting away. Tears threatened her eyes yet again. Would she _ever_ run out of tears?

Perhaps she let the tears run- she wasn't quite certain. The warmth of the bed, of Negan's body against her, and the feeling of his arms around her began to lull her into a much better place, a much more restful place. Maybe it would be easier to just give into everything. The sooner she did, the sooner she could see Dawn again. And the sooner she saw Dawn, the sooner she'd find that broken piece of herself. No one was waiting for her on the outside, after all.

Maybe finally giving in would be better.


	25. Part 25

_Alone._

That's what she felt, even as she awoke with sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window and she was swathed in the warmth of Negan's body and arms. It was the very first thing she felt. Not fear, not even disgust- it was just the utter feeling of being alone. Being abandoned. It was such a clear and painful image of Tenth forgetting her and moving on, that being here, in this bed with this man, was becoming _much_ more preferable than going back to someone that moved on so quickly.

Michelle wasn't entirely sure how long she'd been awake before Negan began to stir. Before she knew it, he was taking a deep breath as his eyes began to blink open, seeing her right before him bringing a slow and lazy smile to his lips.

"Mornin' baby," he muttered, voice groggy and still heavy with sleep. Bringing up a hand, his fingers brushed back a strand of her hair. "How'd the sleeping beauty rest?"

"Fine.." she answered solemnly, muttering under her breath. She looked down, both wanting to forget she ever slept so close to him but knowing if she did, she'd somehow feel even worse.

Negan groaned, feeling him begin to shift as he sighed, " _Shit_ , I haven't slept in this much in fuckin' forever. Good ass change of pace."

At that, Michelle could feel her expression scrunching up in puzzled thought. "Slept in?" she asked as she looked up at him. "What time is it?"

"Nearly noon," a small chuckle followed, his smile growing. "I'd give my _whole_ entire left nut to wake up like this every damn day."

But that brought another thought to the forefront: why _was_ he here right now?

Michelle's expression grew much more curious, "If it's almost noon, then… Why aren't you at the diner?"

"What, I can't get some downtime? I can't give myself a day off every now and then? Jesus, can't be bustin' my balls every single day of my life," he responded, somehow both blunt and playful. "Let's just say I took the weekend off. _Just_ for you."

The weekend off? Did that mean she was going to be stuck with him in this house for the next two, three days? Just them?

Slowly, Michelle began to pull away from him. She was thankful to find that he didn't force her to stay close, instead allowing her to back away and sit up. He followed suit, however, and even rolled off the bed, stretching and giving a loud and exaggerated yawn.

Michelle found herself staring down at her hands as they rested on the white sheets as she began to come to terms with things now- _this_ was how it would be. It wouldn't be just this weekend they were going to be stuck together. It was going to be the rest of her days. In this house. With his other wives.

A quick and soft, nearly inaudible gasp came past her dry lips as she looked back up to Negan, "Where's Dawn? This is the house, isn't it? Where you keep them all?"

"Those are some heavy questions you're throwin' out at the start of the day," he snorted, obviously dodging the question altogether as he rounded the bed. "How about this- we eat and _then_ we can talk more. Because I am hungry as hell. Shit, I'll even give you the grand tour of the place. But food first."

Negan then set himself to getting more properly dressed, changing his shirt and slipping on a new pair of jeans while Michelle looked back down to her own hands. She felt lost, like she couldn't think clearly. Part of her was angry, another sad, and yet another disgusted. But she supposed none of it mattered.

"Michelle," Negan's voice rang out through the room once more, snapping her attention back up. He was standing near the doorway, standing in the cocky and self assured way he usually did, and was looking at her with an expectant tilt of his chin. "C'mere."

She could feel herself swallowing a bit hard but took a deep breath and complied, moving the covers away from herself and standing. Her steps were slow and careful as she approached him, stopping a little more than an arm's length away from him. Her eyes remained to the side, but she could see him straighten a bit as he moved closer.

The feeling of his fingers on her chin forcing her to face him more properly made her tense up just slightly as he spoke, "Look at me with those big ol' _pretty_ eyes of yours."

Slowly but surely, her eyes began to drag up to look at him, the distant hint of a smile lingering on his lips, as always, with his own dark eyes flitting over her features. Almost like he was looking for something incredibly specific that he just couldn't find.

"I hope you know you earned yourself a whole shitload of brownie points last night," he praised, sounding surprisingly genuine, as he began to lean closer to her. She could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over her lips before his mouth was on hers.

Michelle had begun to lose track of how many times he had kissed her but something about this one felt _different_. Perhaps it was because she was finally beginning to accept it. Beginning to realize that this was going to be her new reality and just falling into it seemed to make it easier.

The feeling of one of his hands on her hips was pulling her even closer to him as he pressed deeper into the kiss. Maybe if she kept getting these _'brownie points'_ , she could get some solid answers on Dawn. She had to focus on that otherwise she felt like she'd remain an aimless zombie. Not to mention, if she pleased him enough, she could make good on her promise that Ramsay would never get near her again.

So Michelle closed her eyes, allowed herself to press into it, and even placed her hands on his chest. It was an action that even Negan seemed to take notice of, a small hum rumbling at the back of his throat as he pulled away.

"Well, _shit,_ " he breathed, grinning as he looked her over. "Brownie points doubled."

That had to be good, right? She could only hope it wasn't just Negan being, well- _Negan_. Knowing her luck, however, it could've been for nothing in either of her goals now. But what else was she supposed to do to get the information she needed?

With one last kiss, Negan was urging her to get herself dressed and head downstairs where he'd be fixing them some lunch. The very faint but tempting thought to just find some escape right now or some way of taking out Negan had occurred. But she didn't entertain the idea for longer than a moment or two before the thought of Dawn being the one in those pictures began to haunt her.

So she simply did as Negan said, finding a fresh pair of clothes in the nearby drawer (fitting her perfectly, of course) before she was heading back downstairs and towards the kitchen/dining room. The smell of something cooking was very prevalent, making her realize she was surprisingly a lot hungrier than she'd anticipated.

As Michelle approached the dining table, she could see Negan near the stove, whistling jovially as he tended to a couple of cooking pots. The sight of steam was rising from the pots, and now that she was closer, she was pretty sure that she could smell some kind of pasta being cooked. It was weird seeing Negan doing something so… Normal. So boring. So _uninteresting_.

Michelle took a slow breath before she spoke up, "Why aren't your wives here?"

" _Woah!_ " Negan exclaimed as he suddenly turned on his heel, wooden spoon in his hand. It was covered in some red sauce. His tone was both playful and held a hint of indignation, "Didn't I say to wait to talk about that shit until _after_ we ate?"

"Where are they?" she pressed, her fingers clasping around the back of the wooden chair before her. She watched him intently and she couldn't help but feel like he was avoiding the subject. Typical.

He snorted as he pointed the wooden spoon in her direction, "You have always got such a hard on for the questions when you need to stop and smell the roses for five _whole_ , whopping minutes. We eat. **Then** we talk. In that order. _Got it?_ "

Michelle clenched her jaw, more than just a _little_ frustrated at his dismissal. What was the point of putting off the question? Just to peeve her? Knowing Negan, it probably was.

She sighed just as Negan turned back to the stove, resuming his whistling and cooking. The minutes seemed to drag but at the very least, she began to formulate the questions much more properly, began to put the words in place. And, unfortunately, she began to come upon some compromises that she wasn't a fan of but she was a lesser fan of the alternative.

Finally, Negan began to bring over two plates, full of spaghetti and a piece of what looked to be garlic bread to the side. After setting them down, he moved back into the kitchen and brought back a couple of wine glasses and a full bottle of wine.

"It is _officially_ past noon," he began as he sat opposite of her; the exact same seating they had the night prior when he completely destroyed her world. He popped open the cork of the wine with a widening smile before beginning to pour the red liquid into the glasses. "So no bitching that it is way too early to start the booze train a'chuckin'. _Choo choo._ "

Just as Negan filled up her glass, Michelle was reaching for it and immediately beginning to drink it down. She readily and eagerly welcomed the alcohol into her system, feeling like she could use about ten entire bottles of the stuff. It had been years since the last time she'd had wine, but it was just as she remembered; bitter and biting and _good_. She took several gulps before putting the glass back onto the table, already one thirds empty.

Negan's eyebrows were raised as he finished pouring some into his glass, giving a few chuckles as he placed the bottle back onto the table, "Well, _damn_. I dig the attitude darlin', but take it easy. No one's gonna take it from ya."

"I want to talk to you about Ramsay," Michelle responded nearly immediately, fingers lingering on her glass of wine.

" _Alright_ , Michelle," he sighed, dragging his tongue over his lower lip. "I am not gonna keep fuckin' _repeating_ myself on this. _Eat. **First.**_ Believe me, I am one heck of a patient guy. The fact that you're sitting here right now, at this very moment, about to eat my amazing as shit spaghetti is because of how picture perfect **patient** I am. But my patience is not endless by any means whatsoever."

 _Frustrating_. That's what this was and it was beginning to drive her a bit mad. But fine, she would play along and do what he said. She supposed it did help that she was hungry and the food _did_ look good. So she ate, chancing a glance up at Negan every so often. And every time she did, his lips were turned up in a smile. She always ended up looking away quickly.

Eventually, and through a long silence, they finally both finished. Michelle hated to admit it but it was actually all really well done, perhaps even better than the food she usually received back at the diner. She'd also happened to go through two full glasses of wine and was even pouring herself another as Negan picked up the empty plates to go set them in the sink.

"Alright, now then," Negan began as he approached beside her, reaching over to grab the bottle of wine from her hand, much to her dismay. He finished pouring into her cup, filling it once again, before he moved back over to his seat. Yet another smile plagued his lips. "Let's hear those _burning_ questions that have just been eatin' you alive. One at a time."

Pursing her lips for just a moment, she studied him carefully as he topped off his own glass and proceeded to sip at it. She took a careful breath past parted lips. "Why isn't Dawn and your other wives here? Where are they?"

His brows furrowed slightly as he pulled the cup back from his lips. He allowed his face to relax back into its cocky calm before he was answering, "What's got you so damn convinced that _this_ is the house where I keep 'em? I certainly don't see them around. And if you do then I'm sorry to say it my dear, but you must be losing your mind. Which is understandable. You've been stuck down in that room for quite some time. Does shit to your mind."

"You called this a preview," she nearly muttered, beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol tickling at the edges of her consciousness. "Are you saying you have another house?"

"Maybe I do," he teased. "I like to keep up the appearance of being a rich son of a bitch by owning as _many_ houses as I can. Really strokes my giant dick-sized ego when I ask the ladies if they wanna come back to my place and then I have to ask them _which_ one they wanna go to"

Negan tilted back his glass of wine for a swig as Michelle stared at him in silence, that smile of his never fading for even a second. He snorted as he placed the glass back on the table, "C'mon darlin', lighten up a little. Laugh or smile maybe! It was a joke. Sort of."

"Where is Dawn?" Michelle found herself restating, a bit stronger this time. "Just tell me. _Please._ "

"Alright, alright," Negan sat back in his seat, expression becoming a little more serious. "You really wanna know so badly? She's with Ramsay right now. Her, along with my other wives."

Michelle could almost feel her own blood turn ice cold at the thought of Ramsay anywhere near Dawn or those other women. And then the video of him and Dawn together dredged itself up from her memories. She quickly pushed it away from herself.

"I don't understand…"

Negan gave a sigh, "Some things got a little complicated and we had to relocate you and the other ladies for a bit. It's nothin' you need to go worrying your pretty little head about. Ramsay's taking real good care of them, I swear to you."

"That didn't answer my question," she went on once more, leaning forward. " _Where?_ Where did Ramsay take them?"

"Some things here are on a need to know basis and this is _exactly_ something you don't need to know," he responded with an increasingly stern voice. "What goes on when you're not around? Is not a whole lot of your business. All that matters is what happens between you and me, _every_ time."

Michelle could feel her fingers tightening into a fist- she knew if she tried to press this, it wouldn't go very well. Not to mention, she was trying to make him pleased with her. She couldn't roll back on all the progress she'd made so far, so she would just have to drop it.

Reaching forward, she grabbed her glass and downed the rest of it. Her mind couldn't be swimming in the alcohol soon enough.

"I want to ask you a favor," she managed to mutter, looking from the empty glass and up to Negan.

He smiled wider, a low and drawn out chuckle seeping past his white teeth. "A favor?" he hummed. "You wanna ask me a _favor?_ After all the doting and attentive favors I've _already_ done for you so far? Someone's all kinds of greedy. And said greedy someone just might have to work for a favor."

With a small bit of hesitation, Michelle was moving forward, pulling up from her chair to reach over the table to the bottle of wine. She grabbed it but was stopped as Negan's hand came up and wrapped around her own hand, still clutching the neck of the bottle. She gasped involuntarily as Negan wouldn't let her budge, holding firm.

"Let's hear it," he went on, eyes boring deeply into her. "I am _all_ ears."

Pressing her lips together hard, she tried to keep an edge to her expression but there was no doubt that it looked only _half_ convincing. The silence following seemed to drag on painfully, but she finally found her voice.

"I don't want Ramsay coming near me or Dawn ever again," she said, sounding only a fraction as strong as she wanted to.

Slowly, Negan grinned wider as he began laughing, shaking his head as his laughter began to peter out, "Now **that** is a hell of a favor you're asking of me. One big, heavy ass ol' favor. Now, I know Ramsay can be abrasive- but that's who he is. That's who I _need_ him to be. He's my guy that does the dirty shit and not only does he do it good as fuckity fuck, he does it gladly! In fact, I've never seen a guy more down to do murderous shit than him. But he's not so bad when you get to know him."

At that, Negan's smile began to fade as he tilted his head back. He looked over to see his hand still clamped over Michelle's before he huffed a single chuckle and let go. Without hesitation, Michelle pulled her hand and the wine back, immediately pouring herself some more.

"Shit," he sighed, bringing up a hand to scratch at the scruff on his cheek. "What, you're scared he's gonna do said murderous shit to you or Dawn?"

"Don't act so _surprised_ ," Michelle bit back, maybe a little more spiteful than she'd intended. She planted the bottle of wine back down on the table before taking another drink of the alcohol. "I don't think you realize how much he wants to chop me up into tiny pieces. Besides, there's a lot worse he can do than just kill me. And you know that."

Negan shook his head, "Well, that's some tough ass nuts for him- he knows that shit will _not_ fly for even a second. We've got an agreement-"

"And if he just snaps and breaks that agreement?!" Michelle interrupted, feeling her composure beginning to crack. "He's a **_psychopath_** , Negan. And if I'm _ever_ going to be your wife then he cannot be anywhere near me or her."

Slowly, Negan's eyes began to narrow, his features turning into something she could only describe as pensive. Like he was chewing the information over and trying to decide something.

"That's all fine and dandy," he finally began once more, moving to fold each of his fingers together before himself on the table. He leaned closer. "But there's one _tiny_ , itty bitty little bitch of a problem with that sentence: _you're not my wife yet._ "

This was what Michelle was worried it might come down to. But this was it. There had to be no turning back and the moment she saw that picture last night, she began to accept it. And now she had to dive head first into this cesspool of shit with a hope it would somehow be better at the bottom of it all.

Michelle reached over to the cup, putting it to her lips and downing every last drop within the glass before setting it down roughly.

"Then I'll do it. I'll be your wife."


	26. Part 26

Michelle got drunk that night. **_Very_ ** drunk. She ran through every last drop of the wine bottle and Negan allowed her to another as she found herself sitting in the living room, mindlessly watching TV. She was nursing the last few sips that remained in her wine glass before tipping in more from the newer bottle. She couldn't stop running that conversation through her mind again and again, much as she wanted to forget it ever existed to begin with.

Essentially, Negan didn't _fully_ agree to the terms she set forth. She was offering herself, _completely and totally_ , to him. Becoming his wife was a huge step that she was willing to take if it kept Ramsay away from not only herself, but, more importantly, from _Dawn_. And Negan claimed that it _'put him in an awkward position'_ ; claimed that he had his hands a bit tied in regards to Ramsay, and because of reasons he wouldn't divulge.

"We can work things out," he said. "Don't you worry," he said.

Michelle downed another swig of wine, the sting of the alcohol numb to her at this point. She grimaced as she looked down to the wine, the last little bit of the red liquid swirling at the bottom. So many thoughts were running through her mind, all of them worse than the last.

What if she did it? What if she _actually_ became his wife? She was under no pretenses that doing such a thing wouldn't include sleeping with him. In fact, she knew that was the gate, the very threshold that she had to cross to get to such a status. That much was already established. So then at that point, what if Negan _couldn't_ keep up the deal?

The sudden sensation of Negan's body flopping down onto the couch beside her gave her a small startle, her eyes turning over to him as he gave an exaggerated sigh.

"Jesus," he said as he reached forward to grab the bottle of wine as it was settled on the coffee table before them. He swished it around. "You're runnin' through this shit faster than an alcoholic that just found out his AA meeting got cancelled. Think maybe you've had **enough** for the night, darlin'."

With a grimace, Michelle just tried to reach for the bottle but Negan pulled it away from her grasp, clicking his tongue to the top of his mouth with a shake of his head, " _Ah-ah_. I get it, you've been through some stressful shit, but you need to **slow** it down."

"Jus' let me have more," Michelle muttered, her words much more slurred than she expected. And now that she heard her own voice, she must've been _way_ more intoxicated than she was letting herself believe. "What else m'I gonna do anyway?"

Negan snorted, smiling in a bit of an amused state, "Not destroy your liver, **_that's_ ** fuckin' what. I think you're thoroughly piss drunk anyway."

Sighing in frustration, Michelle moved back to settle in her seat once more, bringing the cup to her lips and downing the rest of the red liquid with a couple more gulps. She held the glass, turning it in her hands as she stared at it with a lost gaze.

"So I've been havin' a chat with Ramsay," Negan finally began again, reaching over to grab the glass from Michelle's hands. She let it go and watched as he filled it with some wine before drinking it down himself. "Things are lookin' positive for your little proposed deal. There's a _lot_ of details to work out still. Quite the assload of 'em, actually."

Michelle looked back up at him slowly, watching every movement of his features to try and read between his words. Although with the state her mind was in, that was a task she was _not_ prepared to do. So instead she just responded, "Why can't you jus' talk like a _normal_ person fer once?"

Negan laughed at that, "Shit, if you could hear yourself right now, you'd get one hell of a kick out of it. You're drunk off your hot ass and it's not even five in the fuckin' afternoon yet."

"I wanna be **more** drunk. S'not enough 'til I forget everything," she groaned as she moved over closer to Negan, trying yet again to reach out for the bottle of wine still in Negan's hand. But she felt wobbly as she moved away from the couch, finding herself now awkwardly draping over the man as she just barely got a hold of the bottle. He still wouldn't let it go even as she feebly tugged. " _You're n'asshole…_ "

"Here I am, trying to keep your alcohol consumption **moderate** , work out this little deal you want, and I'm _still_ the asshole?" he snorted, shaking his head. "I'm your personal Mother Teresa over here and you're just gonna overlook all that in favor of getting wasted. You could _at least_ pretend to be grateful."

Now convinced of her vain attempts to get the wine back, she began to recede back to her seat but could feel she was stopped short by Negan, "Hold up there."

Perhaps if she was much more sober she'd be annoyed at the sensation of his arm now at her back impeding her- but in this state she was simply just a little perturbed. It didn't help that he continued to look incredibly amused at all of this. Perhaps more amused than he was concerned.

" _Prove_ it to me," he spoke softly, quietly. She could smell the wine on his breath and she knew it had to be layers thicker on her own. "Show me how serious you are about this deal."

Even in her wine addled mind, she knew exactly what he meant and exactly what he wanted. And there was something in the way he said it that gave her a sense of being put on the spot. That maybe if she could give him what he wanted and give every bit of effort into it, she could make certain she'd never even have to _think_ about Ramsay ever again.

Of course, it helped that she was drunk. That only made it easier.

Michelle moved closer to him, closing her eyes and encasing her lips around his own. The stubble on his face tickled her skin as she pressed deeper, kissing him as if her very life depended upon it. And, in every sense, it _did_. He tasted as much like the liquor he smelled and she chased the taste, giving herself fully into the task as their tongues met one another in a dance.

She allowed her body, albeit a bit clumsy and slow, to move closer as she brought a leg up and over to settle herself on his lap. Now planted squarely on top of him, her fingers dug into his shirt as he took a deep and sharp breath through his nose before he was returning every bit of their lips' embrace.

" _Fuck me_ ," he breathed against her mouth before they were locked in another bout of tongues. Michelle was holding nothing back and even allowed herself to get lost into the motion of it, the liquor making her feel much more assured and brave than she could've on her own.

Eventually, Negan was pulling back, breathing deeply as he watched her through half-lidded eyes. His smile was lazy and dumbfounded even. "When I bought these pants they fit perfectly. But now I might have to make a return because they're too _tight_ ," he muttered playfully.

"S'that proof enough for you?" Michelle slurred, his lips still just inches away from her own.

With little warning, Negan was closing the distance once again, hungrily claiming her lips and dragging his tongue along hers as if he couldn't get enough of her taste. She didn't hesitate to return the action in kind, one of her hands even coming up to wrap around the back of his neck and dig into the strands of hair there.

 _What are you doing?_ The little voice in her mind screamed. _What are you doing?_

But she shoved it away. Any sense of reality in this moment could ruin everything. So she snuffed it out and didn't dare listen.

"Yeah," Negan finally answered as she pulled away. He stole one last kiss before he grinned. "Yeah, I think that's _plenty_ proof. Now we just gotta wait for your body to stop doing its feminine thing and **boom**. We'll seal the deal."

Negan moved his arm as Michelle began to pull back more, bringing the bottle of wine around to the empty glass she still had clutched in one of her hands. She took the hint and steadied it as he poured more of the liquid into the glass. Immediately, she downed another generous gulp before being pleased with this outcome.

Any sort of disgust was shoved away and ignored. She was too deep for any of that now.

Michelle couldn't remember a whole lot of anything after that. There was a very, very good chance that she must have passed out, nothing but darkness greeting her from there on out. Not a nightmare, not even a dream to keep her company.

The last thing she could remember was staying on Negan, his arms around her, and the false fantasy of being safe there while incredibly intoxicated. Which, in all honesty, was the best she'd felt in a long, _long_ time.

* * *

The sky held clusters of darkening clouds, the winds brushing past the surrounding trees. He was sweating. He was nervous. He was trying to keep himself from panicking. On the outside, he seemed calm and collected and assured, but on the inside, every single terrible outcome was playing out. His squared jaw clenched in the anxious nature of it all.

Ramsay felt as though he should be shaking or lost to the insanity brought on by his actions, but he felt _nothing_ like that. No regret, not a single ounce of remorse by what his hands had committed, only a worry that this would be the time he _wouldn't_ get away with it. A terror that this would be the last time he would have a victim like this.

He growled angrily before he punched the stereo of his car, the pain immediate as his skin broke and the plastic of the radio split. He hissed, the pain only grounding him as he saw the blood flowing from his knuckles. If anything, it seemed to calm him a bit as he tried to get a handle on the situation at hand.

The body of Myranda, a woman he'd strung along for his own enjoyment but ultimately ended up killing, was sitting in the backseat of his car, wrapped in the very sheets he'd first fucked her in. The sheets had been growing redder by the minute and he was growing impatient and more and more _uncertain_ of his plans.

See, Ramsay had been dragged into a situation between Myranda and her boyfriend; a situation that Myranda had caused to _begin_ with but Ramsay was going to see the end of. In fact, he was going to be certain of it. Because once he found out that Myranda had been playing him as she was, that was the final nail in the coffin for not only herself but her boyfriend as well.

Her boyfriend, some man that Ramsay had no interest in knowing the name of, discovered the entire affair and threatened Ramsay personally and physically. That was when he decided to simply end both of their lives. And it had gone well- up until the point that his plan had been escalated quite quickly.

So Myranda had to meet the end of his knife a lot sooner than he'd planned. In fact, he planned to have them both before him and kill them simultaneously, to allow them to watch one another die. All while he gained the satisfaction that he was the winner in the end. But that wasn't going to happen now.

Instead, he'd found a cellar just outside the city behind an abandoned gas station. No one around for miles. The city of Chicago hugging the horizon. And he'd told the boyfriend to meet him here where he promised they would _'settle'_ things. Properly. **Finally**. And now he was having to make this new plan on the fly since Myranda was no longer breathing. But it would be fine, it would work out. _It had to._

Taking a deep breath, Ramsay killed the engine of his car, opening the door and stepping out. He moved to the back, pulling the door open with a small creak and reaching forward to begin dragging out Myranda's lifeless yet growing stiffer corpse. Her legs hit the ground with a small thud as he clenched his teeth and dragged her closer to the cellar.

He stopped just before the old, wooden entrance and dropped Myranda's body to see that there was a lock on it.

" _Shit_ ," he cursed under his breath in a hiss, not realizing it would be locked. The lock also looked new; newer than everything else surrounding it, that was. Did someone still own this place?

Nonetheless, he quickly returned back to his car and fished out a hammer from the trunk before moving back over to the doors. He began to hammer at the lock forcefully, in hopes that he could break off the lock. It took nearly a minute but he finally broke it off, the metal splitting from itself and he laughed in a small bit of triumph.

Tossing the hammer aside, he pulled the lock off and began to open the doors. He pulled the first door open, setting it to the side and just as he was looking inside, he felt it. A cold and hard jab at the back of his head and a metallic cocking. _A gun._ Ramsay froze, hearing the sound of a voice he didn't recognize but it was one he'd always remember.

" _Hi_ ," the voice of a man muttered, a smile clear in his tone and each word like sandpaper. "I don't like to be _presumptuous_ but that looks like my cellar you're breakin' into."

Slowly and carefully, Ramsay was turning, trying to get a glimpse at just who was behind him. It couldn't have been Myranda's boyfriend- that wasn't his voice.

" _Ah-ah_ ," the man shoved the barrel of the gun closer against Ramsay's head, stopping him from getting any kind of look at this stranger. "Hold on now. This is one hell of an incriminating scene right here. Dead body. Broken lock. Shit, this is _straight_ _up_ the start of an NCIS episode."

"This is a _misunderstanding_ -" Ramsay began, but he was cut short.

" **Misunderstanding!** " the man laughed, sounding genuinely amused. "Holy shit, of course! And I'm Halle fuckin' Berry! I think somethin' like this is a _little more_ than just a misunderstanding, kid. But I get it. I've done shit I'm not proud of. _And_ I'm a nice guy. So c'mon. Turn around. Get to _explaining_."

Ramsay hesitated only a moment more before he could hear the man shift behind him, the feeling of the gun not so close to his head giving him the prompt he needed to begin turning around. There, standing above him, he saw a tall man in his late forties or so, salt and pepper beard with dark slicked back hair, and a smile so calm and casual you never would've guessed he had a gun pointed at someone.

"I didn't realize this was _your_ cellar. I thought it was abandoned," Ramsay began, looking from the barrel of the gun up to the man. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched.

The older man snorted, "Well, oops. You fucked up. You thought _wrong_." He paused then, looking down to Myranda's body wrapped in the bloody sheets with a raised brow before looking back over to Ramsay. "You responsible for this mess?"

Ramsay swallowed hard- was it of any use to even lie at this point? All he had on himself right now was a knife, and he knew the knife to a gunfight quote well enough. His own pistol was back in his car- way too far for him to make it to easily. Not unless he kept this man talking and was somehow able to get close to his glove box.

"Yes," Ramsay finally answered, blunt and hard. He bore his icy hues deep into this other man, almost as if he were challenging him.

The man seemed to consider this before asking, "This your first rodeo in the murder department?"

Now Ramsay was growing a bit confused, the confusion no doubt seeping into his expression. He just watched the other man carefully as he shook his head, "No."

 _What was happening?_ He looked so intrigued by it and it almost felt like he was getting interviewed.

"Huh," the man huffed, taking a step back and leaning back as well. His eyes studied the younger man, his smile growing even. "Murder cherry's already been popped. Alright then. I'm Negan- and I just _might_ have a proposition for a little serial killer such as yourself."

Even more than ever, Ramsay didn't know what to make of this, but he didn't particularly like it. Not even a little bit. Slowly, Ramsay pulled himself up to his feet more properly, making careful movements as this _Negan_ still had his pistol trained on him.

"What are you talking about?" Ramsay demanded more than asked, the sound of his puzzlement clear.

"I am talkin' 'bout a generous offer that I can swipe right out from under you _just like that,_ " he responded as if it were obvious. "Picture this: **here** I am, comin' out here to check on my cellar that I own. Legally. Responsibly. And _what_ do I find? Some kid breakin' into my cellar that **I own** with the intent of dumping a _body_ into it all willy nilly! No respect. Not even askin' my permission. And I see myself at a fork in the road where I can do one of two things-"

Negan paused then, tilting his head a bit as he reconsidered his words a bit before continuing, "Nah, _sorry_ , **three** things. Three whole options! Three whole doors we can open and go through together. So, _door number one!_ I just pull this trigger. Use this gun to get rid of you. Although, I'm not a fan of that option- it's messy and pretty gross as shit when blood gets all over the damn place. Door number two! I hop right onto the police hotline and just let them do all the dirty work."

A slow incline of Negan's lips began to follow in the small silence. "Or door number three. A door I am _particularly_ fond of. You put your murderous skills to use. You do me some solids and we won't have to explore every nasty detail of what's behind doors one and two. Being that you are in a _serious_ shit fest of a situation, I would take door number three, as it is the best and, personally, my favorite. And you always wanna make a guy with a gun happy."

How could this man have such a **_gall?_** And the way he presented himself, both in his form and the way he spoke, he was so cocky. So assured. It honestly angered Ramsay. He didn't like _any_ of these options, though if he had to choose one, it would certainly be the one where he didn't end up dead or in any kind of custody.

Ramsay remained silent for a few long moments before Negan seemed to have a thought pop up suddenly to him, " _Oh!_ Shit, right. How damn **rude** of me. Let me shut up for five fuckin' seconds and you can tell me your name."

Nearly five seconds of silence later, as Negan promised, and Ramsay was beginning to open his mouth to respond when the sound of a loud engine was approaching.

Shit. **_Shit._** That had to be Myranda's boyfriend. Ramsay and Negan both looked over to the side as a red truck pulled up around the corner of the gas station. Looking in through the window, that was exactly who Ramsay had been expecting. He was a little early.

Negan's smile fell slightly as he looked from the truck back to Ramsay, "Expecting company?"

Ramsay looked down at the body of Myranda before looking back up to Negan with a hardness about his features and his jaw locked in a tight grip.

" _Holy shit,_ " Negan couldn't help but laugh. "You are absolutely in the deepest and shittiest shit of **_shit!_** "

This situation was so far removed from ideal and what frustrated Ramsay the most was how unprepared he was for this all. He'd been sloppy, something that was incredibly uncharacteristic of him, but it all came on quickly. His emotions had gotten the better of him when it came to Myranda. If only he'd planned this better and done things a different way-

" _Ramsay!_!"

That was a voice Ramsay knew well. The voice of Myranda's boyfriend. He exited the car, slamming the truck door, and began coming closer.

"Time to settle this shi-?!"

"Oh, you have **got** to be kiddin' me," Negan laughed, causing the boyfriend to stop in his tracks once he saw Negan pointing the gun directly at him. He took a step back, shaking and slow, but it was too late before Negan was pulling the trigger, sending a bullet straight through the other man's neck.

Ramsay's eyes went wide in surprise, more shocked at Negan's sudden action than the murder itself. The man clutched his neck as he tried to steady himself on the truck before collapsing onto the ground in a pool of blood.

"Ramsay, _huh?_ " Negan smiled over at the younger man. "How about that door number three?"


	27. Part 27

**WARNING: There is _explicit_ sexual content in this chapter. If that is not your jam, I would recommend skipping this chapter. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

The next few days consisted of something resembling some kind of normalcy. The type of normalcy that she would come to expect for what was arguably the rest of her days. And while at one point that would've _terrified_ her or sent her into a spiral of despair, anything was better than the hell of being trapped beneath that diner. So putting things into perspective, this was like a _paradise_.

Although, dealing with what had been one of the **worst** hangovers she'd ever experienced was not fun in the slightest. Thankfully, Negan had been- _considerate_ about it. Which was a word that she never thought to attribute to the man. In fact, she had seen him as anything _but_ considerate up until this point. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she'd finally begun to cooperate. Fully and properly cooperate, that was.

She was too tired, too broken to fight against it. And she was doing it for Dawn's sake as well as her own. Then again, hadn't it always been about Dawn? The fact that she didn't just do whatever it took to get out of that room in the first place, including even getting herself killed, proved that much. And she was so close to her goal, so close to seeing her best friend again that she could almost reach out and grasp it.

So she kept her focus on that and even allowed herself to drink more wine. Though Negan had been much more attentive in terms of not letting her drink nearly as much as she had before. Which upset her but only because this entire situation was easier when she had alcohol in her system. It was easier to kiss him and be near him. Hell, it even made it easier to let herself accept and find some kind of enjoyment out of it.

Maybe she'd finally lost her mind but she didn't care anymore. Maybe she and Dawn both lost their minds throughout all this, but at least they could both be lost together. Soon. _Soon_. Not soon enough.

Each day that passed, she was still bleeding. And part of her was grateful for it, yet another wished she could just get it over with. It formed knots in her stomach just thinking about it, traveling up into her throat and making it hard to swallow until she focused on the here and now. Which usually included drinking, watching TV, or eating more of Negan's food. It was _always_ with Negan, though. Every day he was still there, living so… **Domestically**. Jarring was certainly one word for it.

On the second day, Negan followed up on that offer to give her the _'grand ol' tour'_ of the house. It was a pretty nice house, Michelle had to admit. Definitely not something she ever pictured herself able to afford in her lifetime. Five bedrooms, four baths, quite the expansive living room, even a den along with a recreational room. And, perhaps the most _obvious_ staple to expect of a man like Negan, it had a basement. A pretty roomy basement, complete with its own bed, sink, toilet, and dresser. _Bare essentials._

Michelle didn't even need to be told that this is where the bad wives went, it was crystal clear with one glance. It was, essentially, the _'time out corner'_ , as Negan called it. The kind of clever name only Negan could come up with. And it gave her every single horrible vibe that the room beneath the diner gave her. Needless to say, she didn't linger down there for long.

Near the end of the third day, she stopped bleeding.

There were no more excuses now, nothing more to put off. In fact, she was _tired_ of putting it off, she wanted to get it done and over with. She wanted the security of knowing Ramsay would never come near her ever again, even if it was at the cost of giving herself up to Negan.

They'd just finished eating, Negan taking his plate away to wash off before she decided to tell him. She was, _of course_ , thoroughly buzzed and would no doubt be at the verge of drunk soon enough. That had to make it easier.

Michelle swallowed a bit hard, grabbing her glass of wine, her lips pursing in pensive thought as she eyed it. Silence followed for several long, hard moments before she looked over to Negan as he began walking back towards the dining table, "I'm ready."

His brows raised sharply, half of a smile tainting his lips but something like surprise followed his words, "No shit? Well damn, alright. That was quick. Can't say I'm not happy as shit to hear that! And in more ways than one, if ya catch my drift." He paused, moving back over to the table to take Michelle's plate, now empty before he was stepping back. "Go on upstairs, I'll meet ya there. Get ready and powder your nose or some shit."

As he turned to bring the plate over to the sink, she downed the rest of the wine in her glass before setting it down, making herself get up and head upstairs. She didn't, for even a single moment, linger on where her actions were bringing her. Instead she focused on the actions themselves, one step at a time, where she led herself into the bathroom and washed her face.

She still couldn't bring herself to look into the mirror. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a proper look at herself. Michelle didn't want to know what she looked like anymore- she didn't want to see the very person she had become. The kind of person that gave up and gave into her imprisonment. It seemed so much easier to just accept it without looking herself in the face.

Taking several deep breaths, she made her way into the master bedroom, the very room that she had been sharing the same bed with Negan for the past few days. It was beginning to feel normal and that in and of itself should've been much more horrifying than it felt. And now here she was, settled on the bed and waiting to sleep with him.

As the minutes ticked by, Michelle could feel her consciousness becoming much more floaty, much more disoriented. Although it was nowhere near the amount she wished it could be- she was still quite lucid to the point it was almost disappointing. But all that mattered was the fact that she wasn't sober, not _really_. That had to make it easier. It had to.

"Y'know something, Michelle," Negan's voice came from just beyond the doorway before he was stepping within, one hand unbuckling the watch on his wrist. "I have _gotta_ be honest: you came incredibly close to not getting nearly this far along. In fact, you came so fuckin' close, even Ramsay had been **begging** to just call you a lost cause. I can't tell you how much I had to shut that shit down."

As Negan removed his watch he stepped closer, moving to slip his watch off and place it on the nightstand to his left. "I always had faith in you," he muttered, fingers reaching out to brush along her jaw, pressing back dark strands of her hair. "And _damn_ am I glad that faith is payin' off."

She attempted at a small smile, but it was forced and short lived, "Guess I'm just lucky, huh."

"Yeah," he chuckled very lightly as he began to lean down. "Incredibly damn lucky."

The feeling of his lips upon hers brought a familiar sensation as she allowed her eyes to close, giving herself into the moment. Simply allowing her body to take the lead and leave behind all rational thought. Michelle allowed Negan to press her deeper into the bed, feeling the weight of his body atop her and his tongue sliding against her own.

After these recent days, such an act was nothing new, not for Michelle anymore. However, when Negan began to press one of his hands beneath the hem of her shirt, that was when it stopped feeling old and it was that much more real. Not that it mattered much- she was too preoccupied with helping Negan remove her top, leaving her more bare than she'd ever been before this man.

His fingertips explored her now bare skin, against her taut abdomen as his mouth moved to the side of her neck. She felt a quick and light gasp fall past her lips as his large hand was clasping over her bra and she could feel the wetness of his tongue just beneath her jaw.

"Fuck, you're beautiful as fuckin' _fuck_ ," he breathed, still sounding playful even as the heat of his mouth was against her.

Negan wasted no time in reaching behind her back to begin unclasping her bra, Michelle obliging by lifting herself just slightly. One of her hands went to the back of his head as she could feel his mouth wrap around her neck and begin to suck at whatever skin was there, almost like he couldn't get enough of the taste.

If there was one thing that surprised her, it was actually how _gentle_ he was being; she'd expected rough hands, hard bites, digging nails. Instead, he was smooth, slipping off her bra and tossing it to the side before letting strong fingers play at her hardening nipples in massaging waves. And his groping was done in such a way that it seemed he was trying to get her to enjoy it just as much as he was. There was no stopping the small mewl that escaped her throat as he rolled the sensitive nub of flesh between his fingers.

"Up on the bed more," Negan ordered, the direction so blunt, Michelle had to take a moment more to process it before obeying.

She pushed herself up onto the bed in a more proper fashion, Negan following and not allowing her to move out from under him for long before he was all over her again. Now his hands were at her waist, holding her still as his mouth wandered down to her collarbone then down once again where his tongue met a stiff nipple. Almost teasingly, he brushed his teeth against the skin there, causing an involuntary moan to linger in Michelle's mouth.

Negan chuckled at that, " _You like that?_ " before promptly wrapping his lips around her breast and giving a rough and tight suckle. It got yet another moan of pleasure from her lips and despite herself, she could feel the wetness between her legs growing. He was laughing lowly once more, " _Yeah_. Yeah you do."

The combination of the alcohol swimming in her system and the very motions Negan was making brought her on a strange high of sorts, which was incredible on its own. Especially considering they had just begun and she was already getting this bothered.

Michelle was then acutely aware of Negan's fingers beginning to unbutton her jeans, slipping down the zipper before he was tugging them down. She arched up to help the garment slip off her form and Negan was placing them in a heap on the floor before he was removing his own shirt. He tossed it to join the growing pile of clothing on the floor before returning to his position atop her.

"Can't say it was _all_ luck that you got this far," Negan muttered with a grin, his tongue poking between white teeth. Suddenly two of his fingers were pressing flat against her knickers, causing her to writhe in a burst of pleasure as he dug them between the lips of her sex, beginning to massage in a vertical motion. The smile on his face only grew as she groaned from the ministrations. "Because you have one huge ass thing going for ya: your _bangin'_ as fuck body, baby."

His fingers pressed harder, deeper, and his massages grew longer and unconsciously, she was spreading her legs farther in the chance that it would bring more of the sensation. It was good. It was _really_ good. Her body had been starved of any kind of physical attention and now she was feeling every bit of it.

Michelle bit down hard onto her lower lip as Negan found that one little strong cluster of nerves and pressed harder against it, causing her nails to dig into the sheets of the mattress. A long and low moan carried through the room as he stimulated her clit again and again, so much so that it was impossible that Negan didn't know what he was doing.

He knew _exactly_ what he was doing and it was already driving her insane.

"Shit..!" Michelle gasped, opening her eyes for a moment to look up at Negan. He was watching her with what she could only describe as mesmerization, absolutely caught up in her visceral reaction to his motions.

He chuckled in a husky tone, his dark hues watching her intently, "You are already _wet as hell_ and I am absolutely **hard** as hell. What a damn perfect coincidence. I wanna hear that pretty voice scream my name."

Now his actions seemed a little more hurried than they were before and there would be no way Michelle would start complaining. In fact, she was grateful, helping Negan to tug down her underwear and toss the already soaked material to the side. He then proceeded to unbuckle his belt, then unbutton his pants, before slipping them off along with his boxers.

" _Shit,_ " Negan cursed after he tossed his pants to the side, causing Michelle to watch in curiosity as he reached back over to his trousers and dug into the pocket. He pulled out a tiny, blue tinfoil package and began to tear it open, "You have got me _all_ kinds of messed up, I almost forgot the damn condom. That would've been an **OOPS** as fuck moment because believe me, I am _not_ about to do some pullin' out shit. Mama didn't raise a quitter."

Then he proceeded to tug the latex cover over his hardened length, to which Michelle got a complete and total view of. He wasn't small, by _no_ means was he small, and every fiber of her being shuddered in anticipation of having his thickness inside her. It was simultaneously terrifying and exciting, her body and her mind waging a war within that she knew her body was bound to win.

It was with very little warning that Michelle could feel something prodding at her entrance and it took her a moment for her to realize it was one of his fingers. She gasped sharply as suddenly two of his fingers were delving deeply into her tight and slick hole, pushing all the way up to his knuckles. Just his two fingers already felt big enough and she exhaled a groan as she adjusted to the sensation.

" **Fuck** , you're tight as fuck," he muttered just beneath his breath, his free hand absently stroking his member. " _Relax_ , darlin'."

It was hard to relax at all when she knew what was coming. It was incredibly difficult. Especially when he drew his fingers back and pushed them back in several times, trying to work at her hot walls to ease up. Another moan, much sharper this time, floated from her lungs as she felt a third finger pressing in and she couldn't help but dive a hand down to clasp his wrist tightly, stopping him.

"That hurt?" he asked, an estranged sense of genuine concern in his words.

Michelle swallowed hard as she kept his fingers steady, her eyes meeting his as she shook her head, "Just.. Go slow… _Please._ "

A lazy smile filled his lips as he chuckled, "Nice and easy. I got ya."

Negan actually seemed to listen, still pressing his fingers deeper and deeper, yet he took it gentle and slow. It was much easier to grow accustomed to the sensation, even allowing her to find more and more pleasure from the act. She was almost disappointed by the sudden absence of his fingers but quickly realized he was positioning himself to press his cock into her.

"I hope you're nice and ready for this, Michelle," he said, the head of his pulsating length pressing against her entrance. "Because I am gonna screw the ever loving holy shitting **_hell_ ** outta you."

Those words were the only warning she received before he was hitching his hips forward, pressing every inch he could into her. It didn't go in all the way with one clean thrust, leaving Michelle writhing in what was quite the striking pain, causing a loud cry to rattle her throat. She hadn't realized how much she wasn't ready for his full girth but it seemed it didn't matter- he pulled back just slightly before pressing himself even _deeper_ until he was buried to the hilt.

" **Shit!** " Negan hissed between his teeth, allowing himself to stay deep within her. Each of his hands were gripping tightly to her thighs, his fingers digging in hard enough that it threatened to leave bruises. "Oh _fuck_ , if that isn't just perfect."

Michelle could feel the smallest hints of tears at the corner of her eyes as she breathed deeply, already trying to keep her breathing under control. Her fingers found purchase on his wrists, holding tightly as if they were the only things keeping her grounded.

The short moment of adjustment was just that: _short_. It wasn't long before he was beginning to pull back, allowing only his head to remain buried before he was shoving himself back within. Still, it hurt, but not nearly as much as it had the first time. And now he set himself into a slow but strong movement, pulling back and driving within once more.

Her breaths were just barely under control, the noises that continued to come from her agape mouth accompanied by the sound of their slick flesh meeting one another again and again, along with Negan's own steady but deep breath.

" _There_ we go," he murmured in sandpaper words beneath a lazy smile. He paused for just a moment as he readjusted his legs and leaned deeper over her. "Look at me, darlin', and tell me this was worth it. This was worth all the shit, wasn't it?"

The more he pressed into her, the more he fucked her, the more the pleasure overrode the pain, and the more impossible it was to disagree with him. Michelle was so lost in the moment that she found herself forgetting everything. All that mattered was here and now and the very feeling of him inside her, filling every inch of her.

"It was worth it," she moaned, letting out a higher cry as his hips picked up in pace. She could feel her back arching up almost involuntarily as his thrusts became harder and faster in small but certain inclines. "Ah! _Negan!_ "

Negan stifled a groan as he pressed each of his hands against the mattress, his words holding a sense of satisfaction to them, "That's it, scream my name, let it all out!"

Reaching up, Michelle's fingers found their grip on his shoulders then up into his hair, nails finding their way through dark strands of hair as her eyes squeezed shut with another long moan. Her legs spread farther as he pushed into her again and again and again, the friction and slickness sending Michelle into a place of pleasure she hadn't felt in what seemed like lifetimes.

Even now, Negan was beginning to breathe hard before his mouth was crashing against hers, a sloppy kiss of need and want following, his tongue finding hers for but a moment before he was pulling away once more. Now his thrusts were growing harder and rougher, chasing the satisfaction that was growing closer with every minute that passed.

Every bit of her senses were on fire as she called out his name one, two, three more times in unrelenting cries of pleasure. And it was all too obvious that it was a contributing factor to bringing Negan over the edge. His moans were low and almost growling as she could feel him shuddering from the immensity of the sensations overcoming him just as they did for her. She felt the precipice of her own orgasm come toppling over her, sending her into blinding pleasure that which everything after was lost to the white noise of it all.

Finally, his fast and relentless thrusts began to slow to heavy and hard thuds deeply into her before Negan was letting out a low and deep breath, " _Ahh fuck..!_ "

Only a few more thrusts, growing weaker with each one, came from Negan's hips before he stopped entirely, allowing himself to remain as deep inside her as he could.

"Holy fuck…" he groaned, breathless and in a state of exhaust, much more than Michelle had ever seen him in, even his hair disheveled. He huffed out several chuckles, lopsided grin lasting for but a moment before he was leaning down to claim her lips in a slow kiss.

She returned it, only half hearted as she was still trying to recover from her own sensations, her lungs expanding fervently with welcome air.

He was finally pulling back, allowing himself to slip out of her as well as he studied her features carefully. His words were much more husky and dry than they've ever been, "Now was that good? Or was that _good?_ "

"It was… Was good.." Michelle responded as well as she could, now feeling lost in the haze of her post orgasm.

With a groan, Negan was straightening back up and sliding off the bed, "Hell yeah it was. That was better than I was expecting and trust me when I say I was expecting a _hell_ of a lot. Way to fuckin' deliver."

Now Michelle's eyelids felt extremely heavy. Mixed in with the alcohol starting to take its complete toll on her body, tonight had left her incredibly exhausted, making her want to do nothing more than sleep. It seemed only seconds had passed before she was opening her eyes once more, feeling the weight of Negan's body climbing back onto the bed.

"C'mon now, _scoot_ ," he urged, pulling the covers down to help her under them. "You look wasted as hell. No offense, but you actually look pretty thoroughly fucked. In fact, I'd call that a big ass compliment."

Michelle didn't have the energy to rebuke anything he said, instead settling herself comfortably beneath the sheets and finding her usual spot within Negan's arms. It was almost like going back to the routine they'd fallen in these past few days, though with much less clothes. Nonetheless, it was an odd sense of comfort, her body satisfied and her mind forgetting everything but the warmth within this bed.

Yet again, Michelle wasn't sure how long her eyes had been closed but she found herself catching a moment of consciousness. A moment in which the illusion broke and she remembered everything all at once.

"Will I see Dawn soon..?" she muttered through dry lips against Negan's chest, breaking the silence.

She could feel a deep hum resonating through his chest, the feeling of his lips atop her head, "Yeah. _Yeah_ , you will. And I am so, so sure she will be happy to see you again. She'll be jumping for joy."

Michelle could live with herself so long as that thought stuck with her.


	28. Part 28

She woke with a _startle_ , being throttled out from a dream- more than likely a nightmare- that once her eyes were open, she couldn't even connect it together enough to even recount it. Michelle was breathing heavily, gasping for air as she looked around her immediate area to find she was exactly where she remembered: in bed, _nude_ , in Negan's house, and in a state of soreness she hadn't expected.

Everything came rushing back to her and without the alcohol or persuasion of pleasure, she was all too aware of everything- **no.** She couldn't let herself think that way. She knew _exactly_ what she did and why. It was to keep Ramsay away from her and Dawn. To keep Dawn safe. To see Dawn again. Finally, after _all_ these months and what felt like lifetimes contained in each, she was going to see her best friend again.

The one person that could make her feel like she was whole again.

Taking her surroundings in, she finally noticed that she was alone in the bed. She blinked several times before rubbing the sleep from her eyes, feeling it still clinging to her body just as the soreness did. In truth, she felt horrible, every bit of Negan's carnal assault hanging onto her like a bad hangover. _Where was Negan?_

As she took a breath through her nose, she smelled it: he must've been cooking breakfast. Back to the usual routine. _Of course._

Michelle groaned as she pushed herself out of bed, now feeling incredibly exposed. She grabbed what clothes she could, slipped them on to be decent, before moving into the bathroom next door. A shower sounded incredible and she wouldn't pass up the opportunity for it, feeling gross in more ways than one. Once in the bathroom, she locked the door and stripped once more, catching a single glimpse in the mirror.

There she saw it; bruises on her hips and her thighs from Negan's hands. She grimaced for but a moment before moving on into the shower, the hot water incredibly welcoming as well as soothing. Although the shower felt good, she didn't linger, the thought of possibly getting to see Dawn today right in the forefront of her mind. It was a possibility so close that Michelle couldn't stop her stomach from turning in knots at the nervous excitement of it all.

She swallowed hard before she was stepping out of the shower and drying off. She placed her clothes back on before drying her hair to a damp state then she was leaving the bathroom and heading downstairs. As she stepped into the dining room, there Negan already was, setting out plates.

"Well, _hello there_ beautiful," Negan smiled as he moved to place the second plate down. It looked like he cooked eggs and bacon- how early **was** it? "Good morning sunshine. Can I just say you look _abso-fuckin'-lutely_ glowing this morning? **Radiant** , even! Orgasms tend to do that for ya. Make you live a little longer, gives your skin a hell of a shine too."

Michelle pursed her lips for a moment before stepping closer to the table, "What time is it?"

"It is!" Negan paused, bringing up his wrist to look at his watch. "Nearly ten in the morning! And a _gorgeous_ ten in the morning it is." He paused, sighing in a jovial way as he sat across from her. "How'd you sleep?"

"When can I see Dawn?" Michelle responded immediately, sounding much more desperate than she wanted to let on. She stopped as Negan stared at her with half a smile on his parted lips. Clearing her throat, she tried again as she looked down, " _Sorry._ I slept fine."

" _That's_ a little more like it," he nodded, smile growing as he continued to watch her. "Sit down. Eat."

Michelle sighed silently to herself as she bit her lower lip and complied, moving the chair out before her and settling into it. She then set herself to the task of eating, knowing that Negan wouldn't let her get an answer to _any_ of her questions until they finished. It was just yet another way that he had control over every facet of every situation.

Yet Michelle found herself accepting it. Simply bearing it because _this_ was what her world was now. This was how it would be. Negan's word was the ruling factor and whatever made him happy was one of the _only_ things that mattered anymore. It was a strange thought that came to her out of that; had she just accepted it sooner would she have already been back with Dawn again? Would they have been able to support one another through it?

"Since you so _rudely_ did not even bother to ask," Negan began, breaking the silence as he swallowed. He pointed at her with his fork for emphasis. " ** _I_ ** happened to have slept like a fuckin' baby. Hard not to after the night we just had. In fact, if that was any kinda sneak peak into our future together, I do not think I could have bet on a better horse to get things this far. _C'mon._ Don't tell me you did **not** enjoy that."

Michelle remained silent for several long moments as she chewed over the eggs, swallowing and giving a small nod, "Yeah. It was good."

Negan snorted, "Good?! _Just_ good? Well shit, if that was _just good_ then you have got some high standards goin' on up in the lady brain of yours. But alright." His lips grew in a grin, white teeth parting as his tongue poked through almost playfully. Negan nodded. "You've been playing hard to get, now you're gonna play hard to _impress_. I **like** it."

Allowing her dark hues to avert down, she studied her plate as she picked away at it, the feeling of a need for answers clawing at her. The impatience was going to drive her insane and if Negan told her, for even a moment, that she _wasn't_ going to see Dawn today, she didn't know if she could take it.

Then again, she had little to no choice, didn't she? Negan just made it that way.

"Let's talk about _you_ for a second," Negan was, once again, suddenly breaking the silence. Michelle could feel her eyebrows furrow in automatic confusion as she looked back to him. "What did you like to do in your free time? Back before the whole, y'know- _incredible_ life changing event that has been these past couple weeks."

Was it even _possible_ to feel like she didn't know how to answer that? That she couldn't even properly remember? It was hard to remember who she was before this chapter of her life. What her normal routine was, what she even did, what she considered _'fun'_. It was such a jarring notion to be forced to think back on something like that.

Silence filled the room for long and nearly unbearable moments as she returned her gaze to the plate. She wasn't even sure where to begin, but she knew she needed to begin somewhere.

She took a slow breath before responding quietly, "I don't know... "

Negan scoffed, " _You don't know?_ The hell you mean you don't know? Surely you did something. Don't bullshit me here, darlin'. Because my bullshit meter is excellent."

"I…" Michelle faltered, shaking her head. "I did art. A lot of art."

" _That it?_ " Negan asked in a somewhat incredulous tone. "Just a lot of art?"

"Watched movies," she added in hopes it'd be enough. "Me and Dawn, we… Did a lot together."

Negan reached forward, grabbing his cup of what looked to be orange juice and taking a sip before responding, "Mmh, right. You two were roommates, huh?"

Michelle finally looked up again. "When can I see her?"

"Woah, _woah_ now," Negan cocked his head back a touch, lips faltering. He placed his glass down. "I thought we were talkin' about the _past_ here. I don't think we've gotten to that part of the conversation yet."

"Please, just tell me-"

" **HEY!** " Negan nearly shouted, slamming a fist down onto the table that made Michelle jump, the plates shaking in a clang. The silence that followed was deafening and any appetite Michelle might've had begun to escape her. It dragged. _And it dragged._ His eyes pierced her. "A little fuckin' _patience?_ Will go a **long** damn way, Michelle. Do _NOT_ go ruining my good as shit mood by ignoring any of my fuckin' questions. Now I'm gonna try that again. You two were roommates. _Right?_ "

Michelle closed her eyes, giving a quick nod or two before responding, "Yeah. Yeah, we were."

"How long?" Negan promptly asked, his voice now quiet in stark contrast to how it was moments ago.

"I don't know," she breathed, feeling a little shaky from the outburst. It was easy to forget this man could still be dangerous and scary, especially after the false security of these recent days. "Few years. At least."

She allowed her gaze to trail back up to see yet another smile was on his lips. Almost like nothing had changed whatsoever. He gave a nod as he responded, "And you two been friends longer than that, I can imagine. Or did one of you throw up a Craigslist ad for a roommate, prayin' and hopin' you wouldn't get some sort of creepy fuck showing up in your caller ID?"

"Why does it matter?" Michelle asked quietly. But then she realized that was not what she wanted to say. So she quickly amended her words before Negan could speak again, " _No._ We were friends before that. We met at school. Art history class."

"Damn," Negan breathed before he was giving a small chuckle. "Now ain't that special. Couple of beautiful and artistic ladies all to myself. And you know what? I'll tell you why it matters. It matters because I, believe it or not, like to spend a little one on one time, talkin' about mundane shit sometimes. You are one interesting as shit woman so pardon the _fuck_ outta me if I wanna pick your brain about shit from time to time."

"You don't actually care though…" she muttered. "How can you?"

Negan's brows knit together as his eyes narrowed. "That's something bold of you to say, my dear. Especially when there is so much fuckin' evidence to the contrary. If I didn't care, do you think I would've kept you away from Ramsay as much as I did? Do you think I would've brought you three meals a day? Think I would've respected the hell out of your boundaries? Darlin', I want you to think back- _way back_. First day of this adventure of ours. **What** did I tell you?"

What _did_ he tell her? Part of her refused to look back on that day. It was a day of terror and uncertainty, almost more than any other day she'd spent stuck with these men. But there was _one_ part of it that Negan said that held up through every following day.

He had _never_ harmed her. He never laid a hand on her until she had allowed him to.

That made it so much easier to hate herself, every touch of his hands on her was because she allowed it. She stopped herself there. That was a **dangerous** thought process she would've spiraled into.

"That you wouldn't lay a hand on me," she answered plainly, quietly. "That you wouldn't hurt me."

Negan nodded, slipping yet another bite of eggs into his mouth and chewing. "And have I _ever_ done that without your permission?" he said after swallowing, watching her expectantly.

A single beat of silence passed before Michelle was shaking her head. She didn't speak a word.

"Sorry," Negan began with a small chuckle. "I didn't quite _hear_ you. Wanna try that again?"

Michelle took a deep and slow breath, exhaling it as she watched him carefully, "No. You haven't."

"That's what I thought," he responded, sounding incredibly pleased.

Just the fact that he seemed pleased with the answer brought some sort of relief to Michelle and that, in and of itself, was terrible. Just making him happy or pleased with what she said and did would be the key to keeping herself feel safe.

Reaching forward, Michelle took her own glass of orange juice and downed several gulps, needing the bitter citrus to ground her somehow. And she couldn't even begin to describe how much she wished that it was wine or whiskey or _any_ kind of alcohol. If she had a choice, she'd probably be solely dependent upon the substances so long as she was in proximity to this man.

 _To her husband._

"I know you're just chomping at the bit to see Dawn," Negan spoke once more after an extended silence. He took a piece of bacon and bit down onto it, chewing and swallowing. "I gotta hit Ramsay up for a chat, seeing as he's currently got the rest of my lovely ladies under his ever watchful eye. And just because I like you so damn much, I am gonna work out that deal for you. One way or another."

Michelle could feel something like a weight being pushed off her shoulders at Negan's words. It was almost like she could see the proverbial finish line right before her, so close to being attained. She almost couldn't help but smile despite herself; she'd accomplished something and she was going to make her suffering and time here worth it. _To see Dawn._

"Now I hope you don't mind but I'd love to hear a couple of magical words come from that gorgeous mouth of yours," he urged with a smile that just grew and grew. "They're _real_ simple."

Closing her eyes, she found that there were very little qualms she had about saying those two words. But only because they were more for herself. More for the fact of appreciating how strong she'd been, how long she'd held out on her own will.

Her dark eyes were opening once more as she eyed Negan, the words slipping out from her lips in an easy flow, "Thank you."

* * *

Every last nerve of Michelle's felt frazzled and there was very little that kept her from losing her mind. Although, Negan had allowed her to another bottle of wine. It was _white_ wine this time, which she was less a fan of than red (it was much more _bitter_ and _dry_ ), but she didn't care. It had alcohol and it was enough for the time being.

She allowed herself to sip at it gently, taking it slow in the case that she got to see Dawn tonight. It was difficult to say whether that would be the case or not, however. Negan had decided to turn on some music on the living room stereo and, of course, that stupid song was playing again. _Struggling Man._ The very song that would probably haunt her for the rest of her waking life.

Negan took his time before he was finally stepping off to call Ramsay. And the call had already been lasting nearly half an hour. How damn long could a call with such a simple order take so long? After all, Ramsay seemed to listen to anything Negan said without argue. So did this just happen to be the _one_ time that he wasn't listening?

Michelle wished she could've been listening in. But Negan took himself upstairs, locking himself in the master bedroom and his voice remained quiet. She tried to listen past the door but couldn't make anything out beyond mutters. So she gave up, went back downstairs to nurse a glass of the white wine.

And that was where she was when Negan finally came down the stairs.

In a heartbeat, she was standing from the couch in the living room, placing her glass of wine on the coffee table beside the half empty bottle itself. As Negan took the last step down the stairs, he looked to her with something she could only describe as pensive in his eyes. Which was an interesting expression that was- _rare_. And Michelle wasn't sure she liked it.

"Well?" Michelle asked, sounding overly nervous even to her own ears. "You talked to him?"

"Yeah," he responded, expression souring a bit. He brought up his phone in one of his hands as a sort of emphases. "We certainly had a chat or two. And I am afraid there is some pretty shitty news that I know you are not gonna like to hear."

Michelle could almost physically hear her heart sinking deep into her stomach at his words, a swallow going down her throat hard. She shook her head as she tried to find the right words, "What… What do you mean?"

Negan let out a heavy and quick huff of a sigh, his words a little frustrated, "You see, Ramsay and I, we've always been _partners_. Since the moment we met, I held a lot of the cards. But it worked out just fine. He got reward out of it because I _let_ him. So in that, this is gonna be a huge quid pro quo that I need you to keep an open ass mind about. And hear me out here."

She didn't like this. Not a single bit of it. Every word he spoke made it worse and worse, and every bit that she'd worked through to get here was crashing down on top of her.

"Just say it," Michelle muttered, an edge to her words. "What does he want."

Negan allowed the silence to crawl beyond her words as he dragged his tongue along his bottom lip in contemplation. Finally, he spoke words that made Michelle's entire world collapse, "Ramsay wants to spend one last day with you."

Involuntarily, Michelle could feel herself taking a step back, her head beginning to shake slowly and minutely. " _No…_ " she breathed, the word barely audible.

"Now hold on," he brought up a finger to stop her. "Listen to me. It's just **one** day. One last measly little day and I can make sure you won't even have to _think_ about him anymore. After that, it'll be just you, me, and all my other wives. Happily ever after. By then, shit, you'll probably be thinkin' _'Ramsay who'_?"

It was impossible to stop Michelle from shaking, thinking back to the last time she'd been around Ramsay. How he claimed their little _'game'_ wasn't over. She didn't want to know how the rest of that would go, not now and not **ever**. So she just sat there, dumbfounded.

"I know, I know-"

"You said that if I became your wife…" Michelle began slowly, her voice only barely keeping itself together. "If I _slept_ with you. That you would go through with our deal. That Ramsay would **_never_ ** go near me or Dawn again. You promised. **_You promised!_** "

" _Easy_ , Michelle," Negan cut in, his voice firm as his expression hardened. "I **know** what the fuck I said. And you need to listen to what the fuck I'm saying right _now_. This is the fuckin' home base. You're a hop, skip, and a jump away from eternal happiness and paradise as my wife if you do this one _last_ little thing and it's that damn simple! Just a day."

Michelle was angry. She was **beyond** angry and she felt betrayed and like every little bit of the carefully constructed reality she had just begun to accept being destroyed right before her very eyes. This couldn't be right. This couldn't be what would happen. _It wouldn't._

 _No_ , she told herself. _This is the last straw,_ she told herself. _No more,_ she told herself.

"When?" Michelle whispered, just barely audible as she watched him with a hardness in her eyes. "What day?"

Taking a deep breath, Negan was moving forward, farther into the living room as he brought up a hand to scratch at the stubble on his face. His tone was factual, to the point, "Ramsay'll be by sometime tomorrow night."

Negan walked farther, his back to Michelle. Her eyes went from his head and to the wine bottle still on the table. Now she was moving almost on instinct, something automatic about her motions. Quietly she was stepping behind him, reaching over and grabbing the bottle of half gone wine.

"Look, I know that this is _not_ the outcome you want," he went on, completely unaware as Michelle gripped the neck of the bottle tightly, adjusting her fingers again and again in anticipation. "And believe it or not, it's not what _I_ wanted either! I wanted this situation to go your way, for you to get what you wanted outta this, but y'see-"

 ** _K_**

The glass of the wine bottle shattered against the back of Negan's head, sending the opaque liquid all over the floor and bits and pieces of glass everywhere. Immediately, Negan's body went limp as he collapsed to the floor, Michelle watching him slump onto his back with widened eyes.

" _Shit_ ," Michelle breathed heavily and quickly, now realizing the gravity of her actions. " ** _Shit._** "

Negan was unconscious, a small bit of blood escaping the back of his head and mixing with the wine. She swallowed hard and quickly as she saw he was still breathing. She had to think quick and she had to think _now_.

Kneeling down, barely even being careful of the glass, she began searching through his pockets, looking for his phone- but then she remembered, it was in his hand. She looked off to the side and saw that it had dropped to the floor and into the new puddle of wine. She was grabbing it and looking to see that the screen had a huge crack in it and it wasn't turning on either.

Of course, _of fucking course_ , she thought to herself. She growled before tossing the soaked device it to the side and looking to Negan, still unconscious.

But he wouldn't be unconscious forever. Her mind was rushing a million miles a second as she tried to come up with something, _anything_. Then it came to her. _The basement._

Michelle then acted quickly, wrapping each of her arms under his, hooking her hands around his shoulders and she began to tug him towards the basement. He was heavy. **_Incredibly_ ** heavy. Much heavier than she ever expected. Then again, he was over six feet tall and she was feeling _every_ single inch of it as she dragged him.

Every second that ticked by felt like forever as she realized he could wake up at any moment. It spurred her on to move a bit faster, her muscles already aching before she was at the door itself. She looked to the door, realizing that there was a lock on it. She needed a key.

Cursing under her breath, she went back to checking the other pocket of his that she hadn't checked previously, finding a pocket knife and, thankfully, a set of keys. Each one she went through looked nearly the same but she began trying each one on the lock.

Three keys down and she _still_ hadn't found the right one. Another key. Negan was still unconscious, breathing deeply and evenly. Yet another key, _still_ not it. But then the very last one clicked, allowing the door to be unlocked and she was quickly opening it.

Faster than she'd ever felt herself move, she was grabbing Negan again and dragging him to the open door. And just as she could hear that stupid song coming to an end, she shoved him down the stairs, careless as to how he tumbled down them.

She closed the door. She found the right key again. And she locked it, pressing her back against the door with heavy breaths and wide eyes. It was mere moments later that she heard groaning beyond the door along with movement before a very clear and angry voice that she would never forget for the rest of her days shouted out.

"What… What the **_SHIT?!_** "


	29. Part 29

"Michelle? **_MICHELLE?!_** You open this goddamn door _RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!_ "

He was banging, pounding on the door, jiggling the handle. Doing whatever he could to try and get the door open but it was of no use. Michelle sat against it, feeling every impact and it almost felt like he was beating _her_.

Taking quick breaths, she swallowed suddenly as she tried to calm herself down. Small hands came up to press her face into them, the gravity of her actions hitting her more and more, especially with each slam Negan did against the door.

" **HEY!** _MICHELLE!_ "

Michelle was startled as he gave a particularly loud bang, causing her to pull her hands away from her face as she shouted, " _Stop!_ Just **_stop!_** "

She breathed heavily as Negan finally seemed to stop and she could hear him just on the other side of the door, "Here I was under the impression we were on the same page. Reading every fuckin' sentence, word for word, together. We were right there. _Right_. _There_."

Nothing but silence passed Michelle's lips for what felt like hours, even Negan on the other side remaining incredibly silent. She could hear him groaning and shifting.

" _Fuck_ , you really knocked the shit outta me," he hissed, the pain obvious even in his tone. "Not cool, Michelle. _Really_ not cool. Goddamn that hurt like **BALLS**."

"Good," Michelle called over her shoulder. "It was supposed to."

Yet more silence passed before she could hear Negan beginning to chuckle, though even through the door she could hear it was mirthless, "So what were you hoping to accomplish here? Was that attempted murder numero uno? Or is that just your way of showing me some tough love? Because I am _not_ a huge ass fan of either answer."

Michelle shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she responded quietly, perhaps too quiet for Negan to hear, " _I don't know…_ "

And she would be right. It seemed that maybe he didn't hear her, silence passing between the door again. In fact, the silence lasted at least five minutes, the music in the living room the only sound flowing through the house.

" _Listen_ to me, Michelle," he finally spoke once more, his voice surprisingly calm. "I get it. I **really** fuckin' get it to the very T. I told you some really shitty news and you couldn't handle it, so you took it out on me. You shot the shitting messenger. Because guess what? Things got out of my hands and into Ramsay's."

 _Don't listen to him,_ the little voice in Michelle's head told her. _Don't listen to him._ But how could she not?

"Don't think for a damn second I didn't try to work shit out for you," he breathed against the door, the sound of yet another hit to the wood following, though much softer than before. "Ramsay threw a wrench in the works. Because he wasn't happy you didn't wanna see him again. He was really, _REALLY_ not happy. And he sure as shit wasn't happy I was willing to go with that plan."

Leaning her head down, she curled her legs up to her chest and pressed her forehead against her knees. Don't listen to him. Don't listen to him. **_Don't listen to him._**

Negan's voice came to a growl as he went on, "He's got my wives, you know that much. But you know what else? You know what you don't know and what I was gonna get to before you whacked the holy hell outta me? He's threatenin' to hurt or even _kill_ my wives because of this little deal you worked out."

Michelle put her hands atop her head, shaking her head, "No… _No_ , why would he do that? _Why?!_ He listens to you. Why is that changing now?!"

"Because he is a volatile little shit that I've been holdin' a leash on too tight for too long," he admitted, a small bitterness in his tone. "We've had an agreement for a long time now. He does what I want, when I ask him to, because I both saved his ass and got dirt on him, all in one day. I made a bet on him that ended up paying off. He became my top guy in no time at all. But that didn't change how much of a loose cannon he was."

It didn't make sense. Why did Ramsay want Michelle so badly he was threatening Negan's wives? And in that, wouldn't that include Dawn? Of course it would. Fuck.

 _Fuck._

The silence stretched as Michelle said nothing, hoping that maybe what Negan was saying wasn't true in the slightest. It couldn't be. He had to be lying.

"Look," Negan spoke up once more. "I am willing to overlook this crappy thing you just did, because I am more than willing to chalk it up to miscommunication and a whole lot of pent up emotions. You got out the anger, you sure as hell took it out on me, and I'm sure you feel a fuckload of a lot better for it."

"I don't," she quickly and bluntly responded. She could feel her voice shaking, whether in anger or terror, she wasn't sure. "I really **don't.** "

"Well, shit," Negan sighed heavily. "Welcome to the club. We all got a lot of unresolved emotions. We should get matching shirts at some point. But listen to me: we can work through this. Just unlock the door, let me out, and we'll figure somethin' out. Somethin' that _isn't_ me being locked up in my own damn basement for starters."

The feeling of wetness along her face brought her back to her own space as she realized tears were falling. She quickly sniffled before wiping them away and shaking her head. It was all so much to take in, so much to process that she couldn't even get her mind clear. It was overwhelming the amount of bad in this situation and how it felt like there was no clear answer.

Michelle didn't bother to answer for several long moments before she laughed, humorless and vindictive.

"It _sucks_ , doesn't it?" she called out through clenched teeth, pressing the back of her head against the door. "Being stuck in a room, held against your will? With no way out and no one to help you? It **_really_ **_sucks_ , doesn't it?"

She could hear Negan snort on the other side of the door, "Oh, darlin'. Darlin', **_darlin'_** , the bitter, resentful tone does _not_ suit you one little bit. My offer is still on the table here. But just know you've got until Ramsay shows up to reach that decision. Because I _cannot_ guarantee you will be safe all alone with him. Especially if he finds out just what you did."

She scoffed, " _Now_ you're worried about me being all alone with him? What happened, Negan? Because him being alone with me isn't **convenient** for you anymore?"

" _Shit,_ even the deadliest viper couldn't hold a fuckin' candle to the venom you're spewing," Negan chuckled, the sound of him sliding along the door following. He groaned as he seemed to be settling against the door.

" _You ruined my life_ ," Michelle growled, feeling her fingernails digging into her palms. "At least let me have this."

"You sure about that?" he asked back, Michelle knowing just by the tone of his voice that he was smiling. Of course he was. "Sure it wasn't that dear old boyfriend that forgot about you quicker than it took for you to orgasm with me inside you? Because _that's_ all that is still out there. **_That's_ ** the greener grass on the other side, baby."

She could feel more tears falling, betraying her and leading her back to thinking of Tenth. Now _wasn't_ the time. It would never be the time to think of him or what he did. So she pushed herself away from the door and began walking back into the living room.

The sound of Negan calling out for Michelle was barely audible as she came to the stereo playing music just as it started playing Struggling Man. _Again_. Fucking again. She immediately turned it down before turning away, looking to the floor to see the wine and blood. Within the wine was Negan's cracked phone, now certain to never work again.

Bringing up her hands, she wiped away the tears and shook her head before thoughts began swimming into her mind. Terrible, _terrible_ thoughts that she didn't dare chase away. In fact, she welcomed them with open arms and a need to sate the desire of vengeance came over her. The thought was clear in her mind and she would see it done.

Minutes later, she was returning back to the door of the basement, everything looking exactly as she left it. Almost like part of her was convinced Negan would somehow escape.

"I'm going to _kill_ him," she muttered against the door, placing her hands against it.

A small beat passed before Negan was responding, " _..What?_ "

So she spoke louder this time, much more certain, "I'm going to kill Ramsay. He won't hurt me. He won't hurt those women you wrongly and deludedly call your wives. And then I'm going to kill _you_."

"Wow... " Slowly, Negan was laughing, taking a long, audible breath, "You're gonna become a murderer. Just kill the both of us in cold blood, huh? Just like that? How're you gonna do it then? You gonna use my knife, drive it right through our skin into our hearts? Throats? _Heads?_ Or you gonna use somethin' else? Whatever you can find in my house? Tell me how that's gonna go because I am _dyin'_ to know the details you're comin' up with in this murderous, killer mind of yours."

"It doesn't matter," she answered quickly, to the point. "Because I don't care how it's done. All I know is I'm going to kill both of you."

"Well then consider me aching with suspense, darlin'," Negan responded, probably still smiling. "My offer still stands if you change your mind. Because cold ass murder is one hell of a big step in the wrong direction. One that does _not_ suit you in the slightest."

* * *

It had been hours. Michelle must have fallen asleep at some point or another because before she knew it, she was peeling open bleary eyes to see the sun on the opposite side of the house. The house was still, silent, and the door to her back was still untouched, still locked. Beside her hand, she held Negan's pocket knife, a black and serrated blade that laid loosely in her fingertips.

She groaned, stiff as hell from sleeping on the wooden floor, as she pushed herself up, bringing up a hand to rub at her eyes. Part of her had almost hoped the whole thing had been a nightmare. And that same part of her wished that the deal had worked out. She didn't care anymore that she had to be Negan's wife, she had committed herself to it. With Dawn in it, it couldn't have been all that terrible. But that would've been the easy way out of it all.

Instead, she had this new, waking nightmare to deal with.

"Y'know, you're a _way_ worse host than I ever was," Negan's voice spoke up, his tone husky and croaking as he gave a lazy chuckle. Michelle felt herself startle a bit at the words but she quickly sighed as she sat up more properly against the door. "At least I gave you food and water regularly. Came down to visit you. Gave you company."

Michelle then scowled, even her tone scowling, "Then maybe I should just let you _starve_ down there."

She could hear him snorting almost like he was amused, "And here I thought you said you wanted to kill me. Don't pussy out on me by letting my own body kill me because I doesn't have anything to shove down my mouth. At least _deliver_ on what you promise. No halfsies here."

Michelle then went quiet, looking over towards the nearest window. It must've been early morning. She'd spent all the rest of the previous night trying to form plan after plan of how to approach this situation and just how she'd deliver on killing both of them.

While her words were bold and gave promises she wanted to deliver on, Negan's words had gotten to her. Of course they had gotten to her. _Of course._ When didn't his words get to her? Talking about killing someone was _one_ thing but actually doing it? Actually _contemplating_ doing it, even? That was something else entirely.

More and more she was coming to realize that was the case and it was a whole new terrifying thought process. But she had to hold onto every single memory of what these men had done to her. Of what they'd made her experience. Of what they did to Dawn. That last one, _alone_ , was almost enough to convince her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she could do this. No regrets and no looking back. The anger had to fuel her.

But it was so much more complicated than that. Because after they were dead, _then_ what? She could return back to her old life. Yet what was that anymore? It felt like it was nothing, like it was empty. Tenth wouldn't be there for her anymore. And she could only hope that they would be able to find Dawn. Maybe she could get Ramsay to spill it all before she killed him.

At any rate, it felt like it would be empty in the end. Empty and _nothing_.

Michelle squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the threatening of tears at the backs of her eyes as she spoke in wavering words, "You took everything from me. You took… _Everything_. You took parts of me that I'll never get back."

Surprisingly, a long, long silence fell over the house as Negan wasn't responding. She was taken aback by it somewhat, expecting him to come out with some sort of witty or stupid response. He always did. But instead, it was nothing this time. Silent. Quiet. Until he was finally speaking against the door quietly.

"If it's any consolation, I had everything taken away from me too," his tone through the door was somber, solemn. "Couple'a broken people, talkin' through a damn door about how sad our lives are. _That's_ what this is turnin' into."

But Michelle wasn't having it, shaking her head, "This isn't about you-"

"If I'm gonna die in this big ass house, the **least** you could do is listen to me," he interrupted suddenly, his voice still holding a seriousness to it that felt unpredictable. "At least _one_ person can hear my fuckin' sob story. Maybe we can be miserable together for a while. Let's make it _poetic_."

She didn't respond, instead taking a slow and shaky breath. She looked down at the pocket knife in her hands, studying it carefully as she listened.

"All this shit, the diner, my wives, it was all part of my new life," he went on quietly, just loud enough to make it through the door. "I told you about my wife... My _wife_ , wife. Before all this. _Lucille_. But there was a part of that I didn't include..."

Yet more silence followed his trailing words. It was a silence that felt as though it lasted an eternity and Michelle was nearly convinced that he _wasn't_ going to continue. That maybe he wasn't going to continue and she could feel the hesitation in the air, even between the door itself.

But he finally found his voice again, though still uncertain as it was, "I had a kid. A daughter. I don't tell many people about her..."

It was hard to imagine Negan being a father. **_A father._** A father to a daughter that Michelle had no doubt he would _never_ have wanted her to see him like this. She couldn't even picture it, the man he was now so far removed from any kind of ideal parental figure.

"My daughter's name was Lexi. After Lucille and I separated, we had joint custody. And that kid became my _world_." He paused, his voice fading for several moments before he continued, "After my wife was killed, Lexi was all I had left. She was it. All I had goin' for me. Then less than a year later, after she turned five, my daughter collapsed and the doctors told me the worst fuckin' news I could've _ever_ gotten...

Negan grew still, silent, not another word coming through the door for several long, long moments. So long that Michelle started to think that maybe he wasn't going to finish what he started again. It wasn't hard to tell this was difficult for him. But then, his voice broke through, sounding rough and hard, "She had cancer... Leukemia. Just like Lucille. It was genetic."

If anything, Michelle felt sorry for his daughter. It was obvious Negan was trying to buy some sort of sympathy points but it wasn't going to change anything here. It _couldn't_ have, no matter how sad of a story his life had been until this point. He lost any kind of privilege of sympathy when he decided to start kidnapping women and holding them against their will.

Negan took a long breath, seeming to try and keep his composure, "I did whatever I could to make sure my daughter would survive that shit but it didn't work. Not a **single** bit of it. So I had to sit there and watch her waste away, attached to machines every fuckin' day until I couldn't take it anymore."

Michelle closed her eyes as she swallowed. "You gave up on her?" she asked solemnly.

" _No,_ " Negan shot back quickly. "Not for a single fuckin' second. But her body gave up. And there was nothing else." Michelle could hear his voice growing darker, harder. " _Fucking_. **_Nothing_**. _Else_. That could **save** her."

He sounded… _Angry_. Obviously upset. And it almost surprised Michelle. There was something about it that sounded too genuine to doubt.

"Last time I talked to her, I told her all the pain would go away. I told her that shit would be okay, lying to her to make it easier for her and me," he muttered through a strained and clenched tone. "And I watched that piece of shit cancer _steal_ my daughter. Maybe that fucked me up too good. Just watching your whole world being eaten alive while you can do fuck all about it but watch... Fucked me up enough to use my uncle's inheritance to open a diner in Lucille's memory and start finding all of you. _Whatever_ it did, it stopped me from destroying myself."

"None of that excuses what you did," Michelle said over her shoulder, gripping the pocket knife in her hand tighter.

She just heard Negan laughing, bitter and mirthless, "Oh I know it doesn't… _I know._ And I'm not lookin' for it to, either. I'm just trying to get you to see things from my perspective a little better. To see that maybe the world screwed me over so I'm just out here trying to get back at it. Trying to make myself a little happier in the process."

Finally opening her eyes, Michelle sat up a little more properly, "So you fuck up other peoples' lives to make _yours_ feel better? Is that it..?"

"Huh. _Maybe_ ," he hummed, the sound of his body shifting on the other side. "In that case… Well, shit, I'm sorry. Whatever that's worth to you. Which probably ain't much. But there it is. Sorry I fucked your life up."

That didn't even deserve a response and Michelle sure as hell wasn't about to dignify it with one either. He couldn't have been sorry. Sorry implied that he wanted to change and try to make things better, but she knew that _wasn't_ about to happen. Not anytime soon whatsoever. He was only sorry because now she had control over the situation. Only sorry because he had no other choice.

"Do you know why you do what you do?" she finally responded, the question genuine. "Do you even understand it?"

Negan just snorted at that, "I guess I don't. Isn't that just messed up?"

It was silent for many minutes more, Michelle still contemplating everything to come within her mind. Even the offer Negan laid out was still dangling at the edge of her thoughts. But there were too many cons to it all- knowing that Negan wouldn't just let her go, knowing that Negan probably wouldn't do anything about Ramsay anyway. They were too close. Even with the fact that Ramsay was threatening his wives, Negan didn't seem as worried about it as he probably should've.

"It's not too late," Negan muttered, the sound of his hand pressing against the door. "You can still let me out before Ramsay saunters on over. Because I can promise you things are _not_ gonna go well for you if I'm still in here and you're out there with him all by yourself."

Michelle bit down on her lower lip, looking off to the side as she considered his words and took a deep breath. "He still wants one day with me," she finally responded, standing and turning to face the door. She looked down at the lock, feeling the keys in her pocket beginning to burn. "One day with me that _you_ agreed to. You know who he is better than anyone and you **_agreed_ ** to it."

"C'mon, Michelle," he urged. "At least _try_ to be a little smart about it. You're right. I do know who he is better than anyone; I know him painfully well and because of that, I know the best way to protect you from him. I can butter his biscuit right back up and he will do _nothin'_ to you that I won't let him."

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the keys, looking down at them and then to the lock itself. What if he was right? In all this time, it was always Ramsay she feared more. It was _always_ Ramsay that had harmed her and he was never shy about wanting to do so much more to her than Negan allowed. But it had always been Negan that kept him from doing more. Negan had been the barrier the whole time.

If he figured out that she'd knocked Negan out, locked him up, she had no doubts that Ramsay wouldn't take kindly to that. He'd use it to his advantage, if anything. If he was already to the point of threatening Negan's _own wives_ then what was to stop him from hurting Michelle? Or simply outright killing her?

"I can handle him," Negan went on, still trying to persuade her through clenched teeth. "And as much as I think you're a downright badass babe, you _aren't_ gonna survive five minutes on your own with him."

The sound of the front door clicking open suddenly caught her attention, dragging her eyes over towards the front of the house. Michelle could feel her heart stop dead in its tracks as she realized that _had_ to have been Ramsay. She thought Negan said he was coming by tonight. Not now. _Why now?!_

Negan's phone. Ramsay must've gotten suspicious. Those two communicated pretty regularly so without his line of communication all night, he must've gotten curious.

"Negan? You around?"

That was his voice and it sent chills down her spine. Internally, Michelle was freaking out. Every bit of any plan ran out from her mind as she realized this was it. She panicked, quickly running across the hall as Negan was calling out to her, calling her name again and again to no avail.

She ducked into the living room, dipping behind the couch where she clutched the black pocket knife to her hands. Already, she could feel herself beginning to shake and her heart felt as though it was going to burst from her chest.

The sound of his footsteps grew closer before they stopped on the other side of the living room. He was so close. _So close._

"Michelle?"

This had to be it. This was going to be it.


	30. Part 30

**WARNING: There is some pretty graphic violence in this chapter. If that's not your jam, then I'd recommend skipping to the next chapter. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Michelle could feel her heart pounding in her chest, loudly and hard. It thudded in her ears in powerful waves that she was almost certain Ramsay would hear and _immediately_ find her. She tried to swallow, but it stuck, her throat tightening up to the point that she was convinced that she couldn't breathe.

Perhaps it would've been a blessing if she just passed out and welcomed unconsciousness. Just let whatever happened, _happen_. Ramsay would probably find Negan locked up, let him out, then she had no doubt that Negan would let Ramsay have her join the other women he'd killed. Maybe she'd be lucky enough to be unconscious throughout it all.

If only. _If only._

Taking a quick and sharp breath, she was thrust back into reality as the sound of Negan pounding on the basement door caught her attention. It had to have caught Ramsay's attention as well, the sound of his feet shifting and beginning to move towards it spurring her on.

She couldn't let him get Negan out of there. There was a high chance he had his own key to unlock the door and that frightened her. She wouldn't let it happen.

With a burst of what could possibly be described as foolish bravery, Michelle pushed herself out from behind the couch, seeing Ramsay just at the edge of the living room and looking over towards her with wide eyes. He seemed surprised as he looked to the tip of the pocket knife pointing his way, but it quickly turned into the expression of seeing an old friend.

Ramsay slowly smiled, a chilling and unnerving smile, as he turned to face her, "Michelle! Well, if this isn't interesting. I suppose my hunches were correct- something was _definitely_ afoot! What've you done, hm?"

He was so incredibly calm in regards to the fact that she had a knife pointed directly at him that it was disturbing all in its own right. So collected, so cool, so _certain_ of himself. Though he remained where he stood, his shoulders relaxed and he didn't allow his cold eyes to waver from her. Not even the knife. But _her._

Michelle was shaking without realizing it, shifting one of her feet as she leaned forward in an attempt to draw out more strength from herself. Words escaped her. She was terrified beyond a doubt.

The tilt of his head and his _own_ step closer prompted her to take that foot back, his voice eerily soothing, "Come now, Michelle. Put the knife down. Why don't we talk this out? Obviously you have done some very… _Very_ bad things. And there will be consequences, I will not lie about that. There have to be. You've been misbehaving but we can work this out."

" _Where's Dawn?_ " Michelle finally found her voice, though it was shaking like a leaf in the fall wind. She took another slow and careful step back, not taking her eyes off of him for even a moment. "Where are the others?"

Ramsay sighed and he matched her step back with a step forward of his own, though it was subtle and slow as he shook his head, "Dawn this, Dawn that. It's _always_ about Dawn with you, isn't it? Don't worry about her for once. Let's worry about us. The here and now."

Of course he wouldn't say anything. _Of course._ It drove her insane how calm he was being, how soft his words were. And though his smile was evening out, it didn't make her any less nervous or scared.

When she didn't respond, he took another step forward, gentle as his voice, "I _know_ you and I have had our ups and downs. Bumps in the road. But that's to be expected when a process like this is so complicated-"

"There's **_nothing_** complicated about **murder** ," she growled, teeth clenching hard enough to make her jaw ache. She jabbed the knife closer through the air, her voice cracking, "You're a murderer! _A psycho!_ You and Negan both. You're fucking perfect for each other! And that's so simple even **you** can get it through your thick _FUCKING_ skull!"

Ramsay looked… Amused. He even laughed, giving a nod or two, "That's it, let it _all_ out. Because at this rate, these are some of the last words you're going to be able to formulate. It's been in my experience that it's quite difficult to form words without a tongue."

"Tell me where she is," Michelle forced the words through, not at all letting the thought of her missing a tongue taint her train of thought. "Just tell me!"

At that, Ramsay just gave a sigh, almost like he was disappointed, "I can't do that. And it seems Negan and I are going to have a _long_ conversation very soon. I find it's better to beg forgiveness… _Than to ask for permission._ "

Michelle almost couldn't comprehend the movements as Ramsay was rushing forward, one of his hands already gripping hard around her wrist that held the knife. Immediately, she tried to whisk her hand free, but his grip was tight, strong, rough. It practically blocked off every vein in her wrist and might as well have caused her heart to stop beating.

His other hand was quickly at her throat, wrapping around it tightly and pressing hard against her windpipe. She tried to gasp for air but could find none, especially as she felt her back slam against the wall, near the shelf. The sound of several items clattering to the ground from the struggle was jarring in its volume. Whatever air was in her lungs had been forced out and she was bringing her other hand up to try clawing at his face.

It seemed to no avail as he pressed her harder against the wall, her mouth agape with attempts at finding air that couldn't be found. The edges of her vision were already starting to swim, giving her the warning that she wouldn't survive this long, her chest _burning_ with a need for oxygen.

"I cannot **_begin_ ** to explain to you how long I've wanted this," Ramsay hissed, the feeling of his breath bursting against her face. His mouth, smiling in its own sick amusement, was inches away from her own. "I just needed the right moment, the perfect excuse, the- **_AHH!_** "

Suddenly, the thumb on her right hand found purchase in one of his eyes, delving deep, as deep as she possibly could. It caused him to recoil back, slackening his grip on her as he had to slap away her offending hand. It gave her the opportunity she needed to flick her left hand in, delving the tip of the knife to his neck. It only pierced the skin by a bit, drawing a prick of blood that she tried to push deeper but a sudden and searing pain stopped her.

Ramsay had gotten a hold on her left forearm with both hands, pulling her back from delving the knife deeper and the very clear _crack_ of bone filled every fiber of her being. She screamed, only interrupted by coughs as she gasped for air, the searing pain incredible.

Catching a glance at her arm, it was bent and crooked, the bone beneath definitely broken. Her hand still clutched to the knife, a death grip that made her feel like it was the only thing keeping her arm even attached.

"Such a _bad_ girl you've been!" Ramsay breathed heavily, his smile turning wild now. His left eye was bleeding and an angry shade of red, the eyelid twitching and already growing swollen from her assault.

He didn't waste time before he was bringing a fist back and slamming his knuckles right into the side of her face, sending her reeling. She saw nothing but whiteness, her ears ringing, before the reality of her crashing to the ground sent a fresh wave of excruciating pain to her body. Michelle felt herself land on her broken arm, the bones moving themselves even more out of place as she cried out in pain.

Sobs wracked her body as she felt herself becoming a useless heap on the ground. But the adrenaline in her system began to kick in, making everything crystal clear. She could hear Ramsay breathing heavily above her and she was acutely aware that the knife that had been in her hand had been flung, sliding beneath the couch to her left.

Turning, she saw Ramsay before he was slamming his body down onto her, straddling himself on top of her and pressing his hands to her throat once more. It was tight, blocking her air once more. She gasped, getting only a morsel of air as he continued to smile. _Just smile._

"Perhaps I'll take my _time_ with you," he breathed heavily, left eye now fully closed with a trickle of fresh blood squeezing out. She could feel a drop of blood from his neck stain her cheek as she gasped for yet another breath. "More time than I've _ever_ taken with any woman before. Make sure I relish in every bit of your pain. Make you plead and beg me for death!"

Turning her head to the side quickly, she could see the knife, still there beneath the couch. She struggled against him, the pain in her arm turning to a dull thud as she began reaching out to the knife. The handle brushed against the tips of her fingers and suddenly her vision became disoriented as Ramsay slammed her head against the ground.

She tried to cry out but she had no air to. It took all of her focus to keep trying to grab the knife. Her broken arm throbbed as she forced it out farther, trying so hard to reach the blade, but she could feel her consciousness wavering.

Ramsay laughed, "Just give in. _Give in._ Accept it. It'll be better for us all if you just accept it!"

Michelle had done enough of giving in. Enough of accepting it. This was the point she wouldn't accept it. No matter what.

Finally, she found purchase on the handle, her fingers pulling it closer before she could get a proper hold on it. Her arm screamed in pain but she pushed through it as she brought it out from beneath the couch and drove it directly into his right shoulder.

It was just what she needed to get his hands to loosen around her throat, a deep intake of air falling past her lips as she felt Ramsay leaning back, recoiling from the pain. And she drove it farther into his skin, forcing him to fall back as he groaned.

" _You little bitch!_ " he growled, anger deep in his words, but there was something else there too. Something as though he was thrilled by it. Like it simply _drove_ him.

Michelle's mind was running through thousands of thoughts in a second as she gasped for breath, knowing that this moment of reprieve wasn't going to last. She looked about and noticed just to her right, one of the speakers of the stereo had fallen.

Ramsay was just pulling the blade from his shoulder when Michelle was reaching for the small speaker, and right as he turned his attention back to Michelle, the hard corner of the speaker smacked right into the side of his head with a force that was unexpected. It seemed to send his vision into a blinding white as he was forced off of her and landed with a hard thud onto his back.

There was not a moment to waste in Michelle's mind as she saw the opportunity and she was going to take it. She was shifting up onto her knees, groaning in pain but pushing through it. There he was, blinking rapidly as he seemed to be recovering from the hit, but she wouldn't let that last.

She was quickly moving atop him and she brought down the speaker again. And again. _And again._ **_And again._** What was once a white speaker was quickly being coated in blood. She hit him again. And again. And again. _**Again**_.

Finally, with heavy and heaving breaths, she stopped, looking down to his face. It was a mess of lacerations, broken skin, broken nose, and blood. A _lot_ of blood. His mouth was filled with it but he was still breathing. Still alive.

It surprised her when Ramsay coughed, spurts of blood flying from his mouth. And he was laughing. It was weak and it was wheezing and it was broken. But he was laughing. Fucking **_laughing._**

"I want..ed to watch you suffer," he barely muttered beyond the blood, hints of his white teeth poking out behind the marring of crimson. "It would have been… _Such a joy_ … To watch.. you suffer."

"Where's Dawn?" Michelle huffed in shaking words, her breathing rough and dry and desperate. " _Tell. Me._ "

More and more, he was laughing, cracking up like he'd just hear the funniest joke. But it didn't last before he was coughing and wheezing, closing his mouth to swallow, the blood still freshly coating his lips and his teeth. He shook his head lazily, seeming as though he was on the verge of unconsciousness, "She's been dead... The _whole_ … Time. She's dead."

 _No._

"No," she breathed, in utter denial as she dropped the stereo. "You're lying…"

Ramsay hummed out yet another laugh, still smiling, "Dawn's dead."

Anger coursed through her as she brought back a fist and slammed it into the side of Ramsay's head, forcing it to the side, " ** _NO!_** Stop lying!"

Slowly, he turned his head back to face her, coughing up more blood, his words becoming more slurred, "She's dead. Because she f.. fucking... _Killed_ herself."

Michelle screamed as she brought her fist down onto his face several times over, but each one grew weaker, not even tears coming to her eyes. It was dryness, the feeling of sand coating every inch of her throat as she screamed. Simply _screamed_.

When she finally stopped punching, she heard one last wheezing and gurgling chuckle from Ramsay before he went still. The smile on his face faded and his swollen eyes shut. She pulled back, bringing her hands up to rub at her face, unknowingly smearing blood all over her face.

Michelle couldn't even sob as she pushed herself away from Ramsay's body. It wasn't even in her realm of thought to check if he was still alive or if she'd beaten him to death. He wasn't moving, unconscious, and that's all that _mattered_.

It wasn't even in her mind to think about accepting what Ramsay said as truth. And she hated that her next thought was to seek out Negan to see if what he said was true. So she did that, every bone and muscle and nerve ending screaming out in pain and horror. As she rounded the corner to see the basement door, cradling her broken arm against her chest, everything within her sunk.

The door was wide open, the lock looked as though it was busted. And Negan was nowhere in sight. _He was gone._

Everything was autopilot as she made her way back to the living room and began searching through Ramsay's pockets. She couldn't even make note of his condition, couldn't even accept whether she had just killed him or not. Instead, she found his phone, dialed those three simple numbers, and left the phone there beside his unmoving body.

Grabbing the knife from beside Ramsay after he'd pulled it from himself, she walked over to the nearby couch and sat there. Staring at the floor where the wine still sat. Unmoving. Covered in Ramsay's blood. And she was uncertain what was real. And what wasn't.


	31. Part 31

**Notes: And here we are. The last chapter. Enjoy!  
(More notes included at the end)**

* * *

The police arrived roughly twenty minutes after she called them. Though, Michelle hadn't been aware of it at the time- the passing of the minutes felt fake. As though they didn't exist. That was just what she'd been told, however. They would have been there sooner if they hadn't needed to trace the call, but it got the job done nonetheless.

They told her that they found her in the living room, covered in blood, with a broken arm, and holding a bloody knife. It was all a blur until that point, nothing feeling real and every fiber of her being denying everything. She was denying any of it had happened. She was denying that she might have killed a man. She was denying that Negan had actually gotten away with it all. And she was denying that Dawn was dead. _Nothing_ could stop her from denying it.

She was wheeled into an ambulance, as well as Ramsay in a separate one, and she spent what felt like weeks in the hospital. Maybe it truly was weeks but her entire grasp on reality had faltered, slipped through her fingers like soap covered ice. It was impossible to know how long it had been, minutes melding into hours that melded into days. Stale hospital food, morphine, the sterile smell of medical supplies, the cool and strange feeling of a cast being wrapped around her broken arm (it was _'very badly broken'_ , she remembered those words specifically).

Feeling all these things on all her senses but none of it holding any meaning was strange. She was wrapped up in the events she'd left behind, the hell she had endured. It didn't help that the police stopped by, pelting her with questions. Questions that she couldn't remember finding her voice for. They were ushered away by the hospital staff and her doctor, she eventually realized.

Coming to terms with the fact that she'd _actually_ made it out alive was hard to grasp and maybe that's because she felt some sort of guilt. That **_she'd_ ** been the one to make it out - what of the other women? _What of Dawn?_ She couldn't have been dead. Ramsay was lying.

Speaking of Ramsay, she couldn't find the strength to even ask about him. There was something in her that begged to know but another that begged not to know, terrified of either answer. If he lived then he didn't _truly_ get what he deserved. But if he died then that meant she'd murdered him. _Murder_. **_Murderer_**.

"Alright, Michelle, are you ready?"

It was always the nurse pulling her out of her reveries. Every time. The nurse was a plucky, plump woman with a bad case of rosacea on her cheeks and nose, but she had a very kind and sweet smile. Oddly enough, Michelle always forgot she'd been tending to her the whole time she'd been here until she came around again to bring her food, give her medicine, and simply see to her needs.

And now she was wheeling in an empty wheelchair; that's _right_ , she was leaving for home today. An almost terrifying notion. What if her home was no longer the same? What if she'd just be brought right back to that basement in Lucille's Diner? Or even back to Negan's home? What if?

"Miss Morris?" the nurse chimed in again, a soft and gentle hand pressing to her shoulder to gain her attention.

Michelle jumped slightly as she finally looked up at the woman, realizing she had to respond. She gave a small nod, "Uh, yes. Yeah, I'm ready."

The nurse smiled (what was her name again?) as she helped Michelle to stand; her body ached, arm cast in the stiff and hardened material in a sling against her chest, fresh clothing on her body (thankfully her own though she couldn't recall _how_ they got here), and bruises still marred her face. She moved over to the wheelchair and settled into it, wincing a bit through the action.

Watching the room swirl about her as they turned to leave left her in a strange state, it was almost like she was finally becoming cognizant again, like the reality of it all was finally crashing back down onto her like a tidal wave. She was going home. Truly, properly going home. And leaving behind a hospital room that she'd grown strangely accustomed to yet was completely foreign all at once.

As she was wheeled outside the room, yet another vaguely familiar nurse holding the door open for them, she could see many other nurses and doctors passing, some patients, as well as visitors. Yet again it reminded her that the world beyond the damned doors that barred her kept spinning, kept moving forward, kept _living_. Though she had to wonder, now that she was found after no doubt being a missing person in the string of missing persons if she'd made it to the news.

In truth, she didn't want to know that.

Being that they were on the third floor, they had to take the elevator down to the first floor, passing many more people still going on with their lives. Eventually they were at the entrance, wheeling just past the reception desk where there she saw a suddenly familiar face that left her a little taken aback.

It was Rick, garbed in his police uniform and seemingly speaking with the receptionist. Though that only lasted a moment as she was wheeled closer, gaining his attention. His blue eyes were suddenly on her and his face seemed to go through an array of emotions very quickly. Worry, uncertainty, before finally landing on something like sympathy and relief. It was a kind expression, one that worked to bring a feeling of relief to her as well.

"Officer Grimes, yes? Here for Michelle?" the nurse behind Michelle spoke up, causing Rick to give a smile and nod.

"That's right," he affirmed, turning back to the receptionist for a moment to pick up a pen as a piece of paper was slid his way. He began to fill out bits of it, a sloppy signature following.

Michelle's brows furrowed slightly, not quite understanding, "What're you doing here, Rick?"

Giving a curt and quick nod to the receptionist, he slid the paper and pen back, looking over towards Michelle once more, "Well, I'm here to take ya home, 'course. Ya ready?"

She blinked- well of course, who else would be around to take her home? Maybe her parents, though she didn't remember them being around. Maybe they couldn't make it. And then there was Tenth. _Tenth_.

Michelle swallowed, giving a small nod, prompting Rick to move to her side, helping her stand. She followed his lead, standing and as he gave his thanks and goodbyes to the nurses, he was leading her past the automatic sliding doors and outside.

Immediately, the air was quite cold, biting even, though the sun was surprisingly shining without a cloud in sight. The walk was fairly short, seeing as Rick parked his police cruiser quite close to the entrance and within moments, they were both sliding into the car and Rick was starting it up.

As he was backing out then beginning to pull out of the parking lot, Michelle was slowly beginning to try and recount for all the things she must have missed.

"How long was I in the hospital?" her voice was hoarse, uncertain, blue hues watching Rick as he continued to watch the road.

He averted his gaze for only a moment to look her way. "Let's see…" Rick chewed over his words, seeming to think on it as he looked ahead once more. "Jus' 'bout a couple days or so. Hadn't been long since we found ya."

A couple days? _Just a couple?_ Michelle could've sworn she was in the hospital longer than that. It felt off, like it was wrong, like it was a lie. But why would Rick lie about that? What reason could he possibly have to fake such a simple fact?

Michelle swallowed a bit hard, her brows furrowing as she took a small breath, "Is Ramsay… _Dead?_ "

That seemed to bring Rick's expression into something a little more complicated, contemplative, his tone following suit, "He ain't in good condition, that's for sure. He's breathin' but he's been unresponsive since we got to him." A snort then a shake of his head followed, a strange sort of vindication in it. "You really wound up doin' a number on him."

"You guys know it was him, right? Him and Negan?" she asked in a strange worry that maybe they hadn't connected the dots yet on their guilt.

Rick just nodded. "Oh, we know. Ya told us pretty much everything. We found the other women, all the ones that'd gone missin' recently and they gave us the same story. We got people out lookin' for Negan. If he's out there, we're gonna find him."

It was relieving. Bringing a renewed sense of sanity to hear such things. Maybe a part of her was glad that Ramsay was in a limbo stage between death and life, knowing that whether he died or survived, there would be no escaping punishment. And it was all because of her. She brought that justice all her own.

But then that just left…

" _Dawn_ ," Michelle finally spoke once more as they came to a stoplight, her gaze watching Rick intently, hard, the one piece of information she needed most of all. "Did you find Dawn? With the rest of his wives? Was she there?"

A small silence dragged after her question, Rick biting at his lower lip and his expression already telling her it _wasn't_ going to be an answer she wanted. And now she feared that Ramsay, the disgusting, lying psycho had actually been telling the truth. That she was dead.

"We didn't find her," Rick admitted once the light turned green, spurring the engine to rumble back to life as they were pulled forward. "We've got our best people out lookin' for her, scourin' every bit of Ramsay and Negan's places and belongings. We will find her, I swear t'you Michelle."

Maybe she wasn't dead. But Michelle couldn't help but feel this sense of deflation, this sense of unease and uncertainty. She knew this feeling. She recognized it like an old friend. The dread of not knowing whether Dawn was safe and alive or not. And it was almost like she was right back at square one. After everything.

There were no more tears to be shed even though Michelle wanted to do nothing _but_ at that moment. The one person she wanted back in her life above all else. More than anyone. She just wanted Dawn back. Hope was a battered and broken thing for her at this point and maybe it was just a sign to move on.

Turning at the next block, Michelle realized they were finally nearing her home, this street incredibly familiar yet incredibly unfamiliar at the same time. It felt like a dream, so distant. But it was right there, right before her, right within her grasp. She had to wonder, as they neared the entrance to her apartment complex, how her life would continue now. Back to work? Back to rent and bills? _Back to her old routine?_

As they pulled into her apartment complex, Rick shifting the gears to park before the building, Michelle felt a question come to her that she almost didn't want to hear the answer to. But it was the last bit of normalcy that maybe, just maybe, she could get back.

"And Tenth? Did he..?" Michelle let the question hang in the air, the car idling as Rick turned to face her. She swallowed. "Did he ever come by?"

Rick's brows were furrowing as he sighed lightly, grabbing the small, clear bag that was settled between them on the seat. A bag she hadn't noticed until now when he was handing it over to her. "He _did_ come by, yeah," Rick admitted, the words coming a bit hard and uncertain. "But you told him to leave, you didn't wanna speak with him so we made him leave. We were busy questionin' ya anyway so we couldn't have him hangin' around as it was."

Now Michelle felt a guilt building up within her as she took the bag from him, looking down to it. Through the clear material, she could see her phone, her keys, her wallet, along with what looked like her phone charger. They must've taken it all in as evidence, she realized.

With pursed lips, she looked over to Rick, giving him a small nod as she turned to open the door.

"Hey," Rick stopped her, a hand of his reaching out to gently touch her shoulder. She could feel herself jumping minutely at the contact but quickly calmed down, looking back. There was a sincere look in his features, a kindness in his drawl. "Ya know how to reach me, Michelle. Anything you need."

Michelle allowed the smallest hint of a smile to curve her lips, giving a gentle nod, "Thanks."

Now she pushed the door open, clutching the bag to her arm locked in a cast as she pulled herself out of the car and closed it behind her. She gave one last wave to Rick as he pulled out of her apartment complex before she made her way up the stairs to her door. Her room. Her home.

In a matter of moments she was standing before it, bringing her keys out from the bag Rick had handed her. It was strangely soothing finding the familiar keys and pressing it into the lock of her door. The click was like the slap of reality that really brought it all together, the door creaking just slightly as it opened all the more real. She was truly, actually home.

As she stepped within, she closed the door behind herself, seeing that all the lights had been turned off and there was a strange staleness to the air. A loneliness. An emptiness. But that couldn't have quite been right; no doubt many of the police had been through here time and time again, scouring for whatever clues and leads they could (and would not) find. Michelle had to wonder if it helped at all in the end. Maybe they'd been onto a good lead right as she bashed in the face of Ramsay Bolton.

Michelle didn't linger on that one for long.

Instead, she settled herself onto the nearby couch, plugging her phone charger into the wall and then her phone. It took a minute or two before it finally came to life, gaining just enough charge to boot up and bring her back to her home screen. The home screen that had a picture of her and Tenth. It brought a pang of sadness to her, deep and sorrowful, as it was combined with that picture Negan showed her.

It caused her expression to become muddled as a thought came to her. She opened her contacts, finding her voicemail number and dialing it.

 _"You have zero new messages and four saved messages."_

The automated voice brought her a surprise, knowing that she never saved any voicemails. The curiosity then got the better of her as she began to play them back. And the voice she heard was one she had, at one point not long ago, resigned herself to never being able to hear ever again.

 _"Michelle, it's me, hi,"_ Tenth's voice was casual though there was an uncertainty to it. _"Uh, just wanted to check and see if you got my texts. Gimme a call back when you can."_

 _"Michelle, where are you? It's gotten late and you're still not answering. Give me a call back soon as you get this, alright?"_

 _"This isn't funny, Michelle, this is really serious, I need you to answer or call me back or something. I don't know where you are and it's really starting to worry me. Seriously. Please call me back… I love you."_

 _"Michelle… Please… Please be okay. Please. I love you. Please-"_

Michelle couldn't listen anymore. She immediately hung up and quickly found her way to her contacts, Tenth's number at the very top as her favorites. Her finger instinctively went towards it but then there was that image again, the one with Tenth forgetting her, moving on, pretending she'd never existed.

But then she realized, whether it was true or not, if she let this stop her now, then Negan was winning. Ramsay was winning. And she wasn't about to let that happen, not even at the chance of such a thing being true. She'd take that chance. How much more broken could she be anyway?

The line rang as she clicked his name, waiting for what felt like an eternity. Every solid, dragging tone, vaguely and lightly full of a strange vibrato invading her ear made it take hours and years. Before finally it stopped, more than white noise greeted her ears, then that same voice, concerned as ever, answered.

"Michelle? **Hello?** Is it you?"

And suddenly everything felt normal. Even if it was for just a moment, she was back in her old life, calling up Tenth, maybe to ask him what to do for dinner or what movie or show they were going to watch. She could live in that moment for a while. Just a little while.

"Hi, Tenth," she finally responded before the silence grew too long, a slow smile growing, tears crinkling at the corners of her eyes. Whatever truth came, whatever Tenth had to say, she was ready for it.

* * *

 **Notes: I had originally planned to include an epilogue, however what I had planned was a little too much sequel bait when I have really no plans to make a sequel. Everything ends in this story the way I always wanted it to. While there are questions left unanswered, that's where I want you guys to come in. This is where you can decide for yourself just how things ended up and whatever answer you come up with, you're right. I love stories that leave a sense of interpretation up to the reader and that's just what I've done here with this story.**

 **Writing this story has been a journey that I'm so glad I've been able to take. I've had such amazingly ASTOUNDING support throughout it all and I want to thank you all so, so much for being so eager and excited to read every update. This is the first fic I've finished in years so this is a really big thing for me.**

 **Biggest thanks go to my biggest supporters: Michi, John, and Jen. You three were there every time from the very beginning, always getting hyped over every chapter, giving feedback, being my proofreaders, and I can't give enough thanks for that kind of support. That's invaluable to me as a writer and to me as my friends. I feel you've really helped me grow as a writer by miles through this fic. I love you guys a whole lot and I'm glad you came on this journey with me.**

 ** _Also_ an extra little thanks to my boo Michi for allowing me to use her original character Michelle as the protag, who is always such a layered, complicated, and strong joy of a character to write. I will never get over how much I deeply love this character and including her in my stories.**

 _ **Until the next one!  
**_ **-Nate**


End file.
